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GRAMMAR OF LOGIC 

NTELLECTUAL, PHILOSOPHY, 

OK 

DIDACTIC PRINCIPLES; 

OR THE USE OF SCHOOLS AND PRIVATE INSTRUCTION. 



ALEXANDER JAMIESON, 
w 

:,ihor of a Treatise onthe Construction of Maps, a Grammar of Rhetoric and Fc.'. 

Literature, Conversations on General History, Editor of the fifth and 

improved Edition of Adams' s Elemeixts of usefttl Knovjedgc, fyc. tfc. 



Understanding is a well-sprjag.of life to him that hath it. 

Prov. xv i. 3 .'. 

■ 

" - 



FIHST AMERICA??, THOM THE EAST LONDON EDITION. 



NEW-HAVEN : 
PUBLISHED BY A. H. MALTBY AN*D CO. 

1822. 



f 7^^ 



ptOT!@i& 



GRAMMAR, Logic, and Rhetoric are the handmaids 
of Literature, Science and Philosophy. The study of 
grammar is the study of language, and memory is the fac- 
ulty which it chiefly employs and exercises. But in pro 
ceedins towards the cultivation of taste and genius, the 
acquisition of science, and other ulterior objects of educa- 
tion, the faculties most susceptible of improvement and re- 
finement are the imagination and the understanding. 

Polite Literature is addressed to the imagination 
and the understanding in conjunction ; science is addres- 
sed to the understanding alone. 

With the view, therefore, of conducting youth from the 
mere exercise of memory, in the study of language, towards 
investigations on the powers of the understanding, in the 
regions of science, my Grammar of Rhetoric and Polite 
Literature professes, by a proper gradation, to occupy the 
mind for some time, in those agreeable prospects exhibited 
to the imagination, and in those interesting speculations, 
also, addressed to the understanding, with which the arts of 
speaking and writing so amply abound. 

But the most successful initiation and discipline into the 
researches of philosophy, are disquisitions about the objects 
with which we are familiar, and inquiries into the operations 
of the human mind, which we every day experience. And 
Logic has been justly styled the history of the human mind, 



IV INTRODUCTION. 

inasmuch as it traces the progress of our knowledge, from 
our first and simple perceptions, through all their different 
combinations, and all those numerous deductions, that re- 
sult from variously comparing them one with another. For 
it is thus, only, that we are let into the frame and contexture 
of our own minds, — that we learn in what manner we ought 
to conduct our thoughts, in order to arrive at truth, and 
avoid error, — that we see how to build one discovery upon 
another, and by preserving the chain of reasoning uniform 
and unbroken, to pursue the relations of things through all 
their labyrinths and windings, and at length exhibit them to 
the view of the soul with all the advantages of light and con- 
viction. 

I, therefore, trust that this Grammar of Logic and In- 
tellectual Philosophy, will be found adequate to initiate 
youth in that history, and to resolve such inquiries respect- 
ing the operations of their own minds, as they daily expe- 
rience. 

The plan of the volume is briefly as follows : — 

The First Book is devoted exclusively to the Definition 
of terms — Preliminary explanations — Enumeration of prin- 
ciples which are taken for granted — Inquiries into the nature 
and value of hypotheses—The doctrine of analogy — The 
proper means of knowing the operations of our own minds — 
The difficulty of attending to these operations, with observa- 
tions which may assist us in overcoming this difficulty,— 
and, finally, A comprehensive division of the powers of the 
human mind. 

The Second Book embraces Elements of Intellectual 
'Philosophy, calculated to instruct youth in a knowledge oi 
those principles to which the development of the mental facul- 
ties may be traced, and upon which we rest all our knowledge 
of legitimate logic. These elements comprise analyses of the 
faculties, Consciousness— -Sensation — Perception — Atten- 



INTRODUCTION. 

tion — Conception — Abstraction — Association — Memory — 
Imagination — Judgment — Reason — Moral Perception. 

The Third Book treats on Subjects of collateral Inquiry 
with the Intellectual Powers, — 9uch, for example, as, tlu* 
Primary and Secondary qualities of bodies — Natural lan- 
guage and signs — Matter and Space — Duration, Extension, 
and Number — Identity — The train of thought in the Mind 
— and Prejudices. 

The Fourth Book — The Grammar of Logic — unfolds 
the doctrines of Ideas — Propositions — Sophisms — Reason- 
ing and Syllogism. 

The Fifth Book concludes the volume, with a brief 
sketch of The Philosophy of Human Knowledge, as it is ad - 
dressed to the memory, the understanding, and the im- 
agination. 

The foregoing arrangement was dictated by motives which 
the following observations pretend to explain. 

In a work that treats of Logic and Intellectual Philoso- 
phy, and where selection is so imperiously required, there 
must be an equal necessity that certain fixed and intelligible, 
principles should be pre-established. Nor, in handling sub- 
jects that have been controverted, and which, from their 
very nature, are ever liable to discussion, is there any thing 
of more consequence than agreement, at the out-set, about 
the language we use ; for, when in philosophical disquisi- 
tions, we are once agreed respecting trie signification of the 
words and terms we employ, it is unlikely that we shall differ 
about their application, provided we continue to use them 
in the sense which we had already affixed to them: hence 
the position and division of Book First. 

A knowledge of the powers of the human mind, and of the 

science of Intellectual Philosophy, furnishes the proper basis 

upon which every other science is grounded, because the 

human faculties are the instruments by which alone invention 

in all the sciences can be accomplished, 
l* 



INTRODUCTION. 



The examination and analysis of these faculties reciprocal- 
ly open sources of intellectual improvement, and exercise 
the student in habits of thinking, judging, reasoning, and 
communication, upon which depend, not merely the study 
of logic, and the further prosecution of science, but almost 
entirely the active business of life. Nor does it appear to 
me that any other process could, with equal certainty of suc- 
cess, be adopted, by which the mind of youth, launching into 
a new and pleasing field of speculation, might be enabled to 
form an estimate of its own powers, of the acquisitions it has; 
made, of the habits it has formed, and of the further improve- 
ments of which it is susceptible. For, when the student has 
acquired those habits of attention, and that capacity of ob- 
servation, which the study of his intellectual powers must 
necessarily give him, it is then, and not till then, I have no 
hesitation in affirming, that he is qualified to enter upon a 
philosophical, but popular course of LoGip. 

Besides, as the progress of the intellectual powers is not 
prematurely quickened, an acquaintance- with the phenome- 
na of the human mind, arranged so as to enable us to profit 
by our personal experience, cannot be a subject of abstract 
speculation, but must be the channel through which we ad- 
vance to the highest endowments of the understanding. 

But the professed object of Logic is to teach us the right 
use of reason, both in the investigation and in the commu- 
nication Of TRUTH. 

1 have already pointed out the relation- in which I conceive 
Rhetoric to stand to Grammar and Logic, and, without 
arrogating pretensions to superior discernment, which would 
only lay me open to the suspicion of a particular prejudice, 
I do not -see' how it is possible to conduct ingenuous youth 
upwards from the correctness of their tusie to the cultivation 
of their understanding, but by previously explaining to them 
the faculties of the. mind, and their various operations with 
which we are immediately or remotely conversant, the cir- 



XNTllODUCTION. VH 

utiistiiiices favourable or unfavourable to the development 
of those faculties, and the means by which their improvement 
may be most successfully undertaken. 

In the execution of this task, I was also laid under an im 
perious necessity of banishing from my work all the trifling 
subtilties of the ancient Logicians, all the logomachy of the 
schools, all the puzzling distinctions which perplex us in 
most of the popular treatises of our modern philosophers. — 
But I do not thence lay claim to any new discoveries either 
in the science of mind, or in the art of Logic. 

It has been with me a principle of paramount importance, 
to endeavour to select the most unexceptionable materials 
from the most approved works of my predecessors cr con- 
temporaries, employed, like myself, in extending the elements 
of science. And those subjects which seemed best adapted 
for the employment of youth at the commencement of their 
philosophical studies, I have laboured to present to them in 
this book with faithfulness and assiduity in their selection, 
and with simplicity and intelligibility in their form and ar- 
rangement. 

Of the difficulty of executing an acceptable compilation of 
the elements of the science of mind, with analyses 
of the intellectual powers, in the order of their connexion 
and dependence, it would be superfluous to reason with 
empyrics who have not added one iota to literature or to 
science. But the philosopher and the critic know that, 
judgment in selection, perspicuity of style, and compression 
of argumentation, the great requisites of every writer who 
would not become dull from crudity of conception, nor 
obscure from prolixity of reasoning, are indispensable to give 
anciently received truths and established modern discove- 
ries, those charms which shall fascinate readers in the pur- 
ple bloom of youth. And in pleasing satisfaction will my 
mind now repose, if, among the unambitious pretensions of a 
compiler, the reasonings which support those truths shall be 



Vlll INTRODUCTION. 

found to possess conciseness, and the illustrations of those 
discoveries no more expansion of proof than the different 
steps of their relative processes required; for/ with youth 
whose mental faculties we would, by active discipline, in- 
vigorate, improve, and embellish, brevity is not less the soul 
of reasoning than of wit. Their knowedge, however, is not 
to rest on tarnished fragments struck off from splendid sys- 
tems, nor on defective models the relics of doubtful insti- 
tutes ; but on the details of human knowledge and such dis- 
cipline of education, as shall accustom them to exert their 
intellectual faculties, without preparation, and render them 
prompt in expedient, and active in resource. 

Sufficient, however, has been said on Book Second, as 
well to show its high importance, as to satisfy every impar- 
tial reader, that, to have omitted it, or assigned to it any 
other place in the volume, would have evinced culpable 
neglect or capricious arrangement. 

To have blended with the subjects in the Second Book 
those which constitute the Third t would have created a 
species of confusion, which, in elementary works, should 
always be avoided ; and, besides, the relative importance 
this Book bears to the Second and the Fourth reciprocally, 
allotted to it that neutrality which makes it of easier refer- 
ence to the numerous subjects that it may collaterally illus- 
trate, or with which, in many instances, its materials may 
be directly conjoined. Nor is this the only light in which 
Book Third may be viewed. If the subjects of which it is 
composed be considered abstractedly, then does the student 
enter upon disquisitions and analyses of separate branches 
of intellectual philosophy, of primary importance on 
his entrance upon philosophical studies, But it is unneces- 
sary to offer proofs for that which is clear as sun-shine. 

Of Book Fourth, assigned to Pure Logic, I shall say a 
few Words. But I premise, that of all arts, that surely is 
entitled to attention which pretends to tell us how we may 



INTRODUCTION. IX 

improve and properly employ the understanding, — the 
faculty by which man is most eminently distinguished above 
the other creatures of this world, and by which, perhaps, he 
partakes most of the constitution of superior natures. Now 
Logic is that art. Its professed purpose, as Ave have ob- 
served above, is to teach us the right use of reason, both in 
the investigation and in the communication of truth ; — to 
inform us hew to introduce clearness and good order among 
our ideas ; — to explain the operations of the mind which 
are conversant about those ideas ; and by the proper exer- 
cise of which operations, we shall be least in danger of de- 
viating into error. 

The understanding is occupied entirely with knowl- 
edge — the end of all science is to instruct us in knowledge; 
and the same end is pursued by all study, whether prudential, 
political, moral, or mechanical. In what way soever we ex- 
ert and exercise our understanding, it is to obtain some in- 
formation that we did not before possess ; and the design of 
logic, considered as an art, is to hold forth the manner of 
attaining that knowledge with the greatest ease and expe- 
dition. 

From these views of the nature and end of Logic it is ap- 
parent, that it claims our attention, as one of the first arts 
to which we should apply, in our progress towards knowl 
edge, either as the best means of fortifying or of improving 
the understanding. The more acute the understanding is, 
the more successful will it be in the investigations of science. 
The less it is liable to err, the more certain and expeditious 
will be its progress in new and untried pursuits. The more 
we are acquainted with those sophistries which have misled 
other reasoners, the less liable shall we be to fall into simi- 
lar mistakes. The better we understand the nature of the 
instrument which we employ, we may reasonably expect tobe 
more expert and successful in its use. Every thing, then, 
in Logic, that does not contribute to improve the under- 



INTRODUCTION. 



standing, and to promote our progress in useful knowledge, 
deserves no attention ; but every thing, on the other hand, 
thai promotes these ends, cannot obtain more attention than 
it deserves. 

Though no art ever gave occasion to so much idle research 
and fanciful refinement as Logic ; though none ever so much 
bewildered the human mind, and repressed every useful 
exertion of the understanding, as that which pretended to 
enlighten and improve this faculty, and to guide it in the 
road to truth ; though all the syllogism of the schools, after 
the thousand volumes that have been written on it, and af- 
ter the employment of a series of ages to bring it to perfec- 
tion, never enriched science or art with one useful discovery ; 
we must not rashly conclude that these abuses furnish 
proofs of the general inutility, or insignificance, of Logic as 
an art. 

As, then, the sophistry and absurdity with which Logic 
feas been disgraced, are no valid objections against its use in 
a philosophical course of education, so neither is it to be con- 
temned because we hear some men reason very justly with- 
out any acquaintance with its rules. There is in all man- 
kind some natural logic, for it is one of those arts which 
may be learned by practice, without the knowledge of 
theory. 

One of the best methods of making progress in the art of 
reasoning, is actual practice, or the acquisition of the habit 
of examining a train of ideas constituting an argument ; and 
of this branch of the art all men acquire some share b} r ex- 
perience — many men acquire a great deal — but though long 
experience in sound reasoning may render us expert logi- 
cians, in the same manner as practice, without the knowl- 
edge of principles, may form eminent practitioners in any 
other art; yet this success will not justify any inference 
against the utility, or even the propriety of the theory. 
The end of all theorv in the arts, is, to render us more me- 






......ouicnox. Vi 

al and reputable in their performance ; and a knowl- 
edge of the principles on which, in this volume, the art of 
Logic is founded, can scarcely fail to facilitate the progress 
of youth in becoming good reasoners. 

Of this they may be assured, if they have sufficient can- 
-lour to admit there is such a thing as good reasoning, that 
there is no accomplishment or qualification any man can 
acquire more important, than the art of reasoning well. 
Whether then, youth shall become, in life, men of specula- 
tion or men of business, in every step they take, their ra- 
'ional faculties must be constantly exercised ; and the sub- 
ject of which we now speak is calculated entirely to render 
•.hem expert and successful in that exercise. 

The Fifth Book which offers a sketch of "The Philoso 
phy of Human Knowledge," seemed a necessary Appendix 
lo the volume ; but it was not my object, in the compass ol 
a few pages, to enter upon a subject which I intend to pub- 
lish in a separate work, as a sequel to my Grammars of 
Rhetoric and Logic. 

And, for the purpose of initiating youth in the doctrines 
of the Philosophy of Mind, I have constructed, on this Gram- 
mar of Logic, a Book of " Questions and Exercises," with a 
" Key" to the same ; as, in my humble judgment, no disci" 
pline is more successful in accomplishing its end, than that 
which reduces literature, philosophy, and science, to inter- 
locutory discourse, conducted in the style and manner of a 
spirited dialogue. The ease with which the entire volume 
may be converted into " Dialogues on Logic and Intellectual 
Philosophy," by means of its companion, the "Book of 
Questions," can only be equalled by the advantages which 
youth ever derive from catechetical instruction, possessing 
the sprightliness of living language, and familiarising the 
speakers to unpremeditated extempore discussion. If any 
thing can verify the observations contained in this Intro- 
duction, it must be ti\e practice of the catechetical method 



INTRODUCTION. 



which I now recommend — a practice which distinguished 
the instructions of Socrates, which Plato has preserved in 
his Dialogues, and to which Cicero has reduced almost all 
his philosophical writings. 

ALEXANDER J AMIESON, 

London, March, 1819 * 



BOOK I. 

Chapter Page 

I. Terms defined and explained 17 

II. Principles taken for granted ........ 27 

III. Of Hypotheses 32 

IV. Of Analogy - - - 35 

V. Of the proper Means of knowing the Operations of 

our own Minds ----. -38 

VI. Of the difficulty of attending to the Operations of 

OUR OWN MlSDS, INTERSPERSED WITH OBSERVATIONS 
WHICH MAY ASSIST US IN OVERCOMING THIS DIFFICULTY 40 

VII. Divisions of the Powers of the Mind ,42 



BOOK II. 

OF THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. 

1. Of Consciousness 45 

II. Of Sensation ------.-46 

III. Of Perception 50 

IV. Of Attention 53 

V. Of Conception ------ --61 

VI. Of Abstraction ---------- ^ . (55 

Of Abstract or general Terms -------- 67 

Of General Conceptions - - - - - 70 

Of General Conceptions formed by analysing Objects - 73 
Of the Operation of Generalizing ------- 75 

General conceptions formed by Combinations • - - 77 

VII. Of the Association of Ideas, or Combination - - 84 
Association by essential Relations -------86 

Accidental Relations or Sources of Association - - - 93 
Of the Influence of Association on our various Judgments 96 
As it affects the Decisions of Taste ------- ib. 

As it affects the speculative Opinions of Mankind - - 97 
The Influence of arbitrary Association, as it affects our 
Moral Judgment ------ 101 

VIII. Of Memory 102 

Things obvious with Regard to Memory - - . - - ib. 
Memory an original Faculty --.-----. 104 

Analysis of the Faculty of Memory 105 

2 



XIV CONTENTS. 

Chapter Page 

Varieties of Memory in different Individuals - - - - 107 

Of the Decay of Memory in old People ------ 109 

Of the Improvement of Memory -------- 110 

IX. Of Imagination 112 

Analyses of the Operations of Imagination - - - - 113 
Of Imagination in its Relation to some of the Fine Arts - 120 
The Relation of Imagination and of Taste to Genius - 122 
Of the Influence of Imagination on Human Character 

and Happiness ----- 123 

On the Culture of the Imagination ------- 125 

X. Of Judgment ------------- 127 

Analysis of this Faculty in general ------- ib. 

Of the Exercise of Judgment in the Formation of ab- 
stract and general Conceptions ------- 131 

Of the Objects of Sense ---------- 133 

XI. Of Reason -------------- 136 

Definition and Analysis of this Faculty ------ ib. 

Of Demonstrative Reasoning --------- 139 

Of Probable Reasoning ---------- 141 

Division of Probable Evidence into different Kinds - - 143 

XII. Of Moral Perception -.-. 149 

The Rational Principles of Action in Man - - - - - ib. 

Of Regard to our Good on the whole ------ 150 

Analysis of Conscience, or the Moral Principle - - - 153 
Analyses of Duty, Rectitude, and Moral Obligation - - 156 
Analysis of the Sense of Duty --------158 

Of Moral Approbation and Disapprobation - - - - 160 



BOOK III. 

SUBJECTS OF COLLATERAL INQUIRY WITH THE INTEL 
LECTUAL POWERS. 

I. Of the primary and secondary Qualities of Bodies 162 
II. Or* natural Language and Signs ------- 165 

III. Of Matter and Space ----- 168 

IV. Of Duration ...... 171 

V. Of Identity -------------- 173 

What is meant by Identity in general ------ ib. 

Of Personal Identity - - 174 

VI. Of the Train of Thought in the Mind ----- 177 

VII. Of Prejudices 187 

Prejudices of the first Class, or Idola Tribus - - - - 188 
Prejudices of the second Class, or Idola Specus - - - 193 
Prejudices of the third Class, or Idola Fori - - - - 194 
The Prejudices of the fourth Class, or Idola Theatri - 198 
Rules to prevent Prejudices, and direct our Judgments 200 
Concluding Remarks 206 



J i 



GONTENTS. XV 

BOOK IV. 

GRAMMAR OF LOGIC. 

Chapter Page 
I. Of Ideas 207 

Of simple and complex Ideas 208 

Of distinct and confused Ideas ----- ib. 

Of adequate and inadequate Ideas 209 

Of particular or abstracted Ideas 210 

Rules for the Acquisition and Examination of Ideas and 

Words 211 

Of the Ambiguity of Words 215 

Of Enumeration, Description, and Definition - - - - 219 
II. Of Propositions ------------ 223 

Knowledge and Truth -- - - ib. 

Different Kinds of Propositions -------- 225 

Sources of Human Knowledge 228 

Of mathematical, moral, political, and prudential Reason- 
ing 232 

Different species of Reasoning -------- 238 

Examples of Reasoning a Priori -------- 240 

Example of Reasoning a Posteriori ------- ib. 

Analytic and Synthetic Reasoning ------- 241 

Example of Analytic Reasoning -------- 242 

III. Of Sophistry 243 

IV. Of Reasoning and Syllogism -------- 249 

Of the Constitution of Syllogisms ------- 250 

Of plain simple Syllogisms, and their Rules - - - - 253 

Of the Modes and Figures of simple Syllogisms - - - 255 

Of Complex Syllogisms 259 

Of Conjunctive Syllogisms ------.--- 261 

Of Compound, Imperfect, or Irregular Syllogisms - -265 
Of the Merit of Syllogistic Reasoning - 272 



BOOK V. 

THE PHILOSOPHY OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 

I. Human Knowledge addressed to the Memory - - 278 
II. Human Knowledge addressed to the Understand- 
ing - 285 

HI, Human Knowledge addressed to the Imagination 295 



I 



GRAMMAR OF LOGIC, 



AND 



fNTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



M 



CHAPTER I. 

TERMS DEFINED AND EXPLAINED. 

1. THE professed end of logic is to teach men to 
yiink, to judge, to reason, and to communicate then 
thoughts to each other with precision and accuracy. 

Observation 1. This then being the design of logic, it has justlj 
been styled, The history of the human mind ; inasmuch as it traces 
the progress of our knowledge from our first and simple percep- 
tions, through all the different combinations, and all those nume- 
rous deductions which result from variously comparing these per- 
ceptions one with another. 

2. It is thus that we are let into the frame and contexture of our 
own minds, and learn in what manner we ought to conduct our 
thoughts, in order to arrive at truth, and avoid error. We see how 
to build one discovery upon another, and by preserving the chain 
of reasoning uniform and unbroken, to pursue the relations of thing's 
through all their labyrinths and windings, and at length exhibit 
them to the mind with all the advantages of light and conviction. 

2. By the mind of man we understand that in him which 
thinks, and feels, and wills, and which is conscious of its ac- 
tions or operations. 

3. The essence of body, as well as that of mind, is un- 
known to us. We know certain properties of the first, and 



18 Jl Grammar of Logic, book i. 

certain operations of the last, and by these properties and 
operations we define or describe both body and mind. 

4. We define body to be that which is extended, figured, 
coloured, moveable, divisible, hard or soft, rough or smooth, 
hot or cold ; that is, we define it in no other way than by 
enumerating its sensible qualities. 

5. In like manner, we define mind to be, that which 
thinks. We are not immediately conscious of its existence, 
but we are conscious of sensation, thought, and volition ; 
operations which imply the existence of something that feels, 
thinks, and wills. Every man, too, is impressed with an ir- 
resistible conviction, that all these sensations, thoughts, and 
volitions, belong to one and the same being, which he calls 
himself; a being which he is led, by the constitution of his 
nature, to consider as something distinct from his body, as 
not liable to be impaired by the loss or mutilation of any of 
his organs ; and this being, this principle of intelligence, we 
call the mind or soul of man. 

6. When we witness the effects of similar operations or 
actions performed by our fellow men, we have sufficient ev- 
idence that all human beings have minds. 

Obs.l. The conduct of brute animals, too, proves that they 
have a thinking principle, though of a nature very inferior to that 
of man, insomuch that its principal qualities are included in those of 
the human intellect. 

2. The proofs of intelligence and of superintending providence, 
which are amply furnished by a survey of nature's works, lead us to 
a firm belief in the existence of a supreme and all-governing Mind, 
of a nature infinitely superior to that of the minds of men. 

3. Many speculative men, both ancient and modern, have con- 
jectured that those natural phenomena which cannot be easily ex- 
plained by mere matter and motion, are the operations of various 
orders of intelligent beings, in the universe, of various rank and dig- 
nity. Others have been inclined to explain these phenomena by 
the agency of beings that are active without intelligence, so as to per- 
form their destined work without any knowledge or intention. But 
we may safely say, that, whatever may be the result of future investi- 
gations or discoveries, we have, as yd, no certain evidence with res- 
pect to either of these conjectures. 

7. By the operations of the mind, we understand every 
mode of thinking of which we are conscious. 

In all languages, as far as we know, the various modes of thinking 
have always been called operations of the mind, or by names of the 
same import. 

8. We ascribe to body various properties, but not opera- 
tions; it is extended, divisible, moveable, inert; it con tin 



chap. i. Terms defined and explained. 1& 

ties in any state in which it is put ; every change of its state 
is the effect of some force impressed upon it, and is exactly 
proportional to the force impressed, and in the precise di- 
rection of that force. 

These are the general properties of matter, and these are not op- 
erations ; on the contrary, they imply its being a dead inactive 
thing, which moves only as it is moved, and acts only as it is acted 
upon. 

9. But the mind is, from its very nature, a living and ac- 
tive being. Every thing we know of it implies life and ac 
live energy ; and the reason why all its modes of thinking 
are called its operations, is, that in all, or in most of them, 
it is not merely passive as body is, but is really and proper- 
ly active. 

10. In all ages, and in'all languages, ancient and modern, 
the various modes of thinking have been expressed by words 
of active signification; such as feeing, hearing, reasoning, 
milling, and the like. 

Corollary . It seems, therefore, to be the natural judgment of 
mankind, that the mind is active in its various ways of thinking ; and 
for this reason they are called its operations, and are expressed by 
active verbs. 

11. Every operation supposes apoiver in the being that 
operates ; for, to suppose any thing to operate, which has no 
power to operate, is manifestly absurd. But, on the other 
hand, there is no absurdity in supposing a being to have 
power to operate, when that being does not operate. ' 

Illustration. Thus, I may have power to walk, when I sit ; or to 
speak, when I am silent. 

Corol. Every operation, therefore, implies power ; but the power 
does not imply its being always exerted to produce an operation. 

12. The terms faculty and power, as applied to the mind, 
are not exactly synonymous, though they are often taken in 
the same radical meaning. The latter is of more extensive 
import than the former, since it may be used in relation to 
material as well as mental objects. 

13. From observing the changes which are made, or the 
effects which are produced, by one external object upon an- 
other, as well as by these objects upon the mind, through the 
medium of the senses, we derive our first notion of power. 

Illus. 1. Thus, if a needle be placed on a table, standing horizon- 
tally, it lies at rest ; but if a magnet be brought within a certain dis- 
tance of the needle, motion instantly commences, and the needle 
rushes to the magnet. You have witnessed the change ; you contem- 
plate the effect — the two objects are conjoined. Remove the mag- 



20 A Grammar of Logic. book?, 

net, leave the needle on the table at rest, and place a piece of flint 
where the magnet lay when it attracted the needle, no motion 
takes place, the needle remains at rest. 

2. Now that in the magnet which produced motion in the needle, 
is not perceivable by the senses ; for it is neither in the shape, nor 
in the colour, nor in the weight of the substance called magnet, 
that this singular property resides. JBut to that unknown something, 
to that unperceived energy in the magnet, the term power is given ; 
and when we speak of this energy or property, in relation to the ef- 
fect — that is to say, the conjunction of the two objects — we call it 
the cause of the motion that we witnessed in the needle rushing to 
the magnet. 

3. This is an apt illustration of the connexion, or relation, that sub- 
sists between cause and effect. 

14. By observing the changes of motion and direction in 
the several members of the body, arising from an act of the 
will, we arrive at a similar conclusion. We are conscious 
of an exercise of that faculty, and we observe, at the same 
instant, that a change in the members of the body has taken 
place. We are likewise conscious of certain acts of the 
will directing the motions of the mind. The act of the will 
and the corresponding change are, in all those cases, so close- 
ly conjoined, that they naturally force themselves upon our 
observation, and, ever after, remain associated in the parti- 
cular relation of cause and effect. What did Ave observe 
more than the change ? Nothing. — We saw indeed a fact, 
in a particular circumstance, resulting as a consequent from 
an antecedent; but of the cause, that is to say, the power, 
considered metaphysically, we can form no distinct notion. 

15. We can entertain clear and distinct notions of an ef- 
fect, while we find it impossible to penetrate into the na- 
ture of the cause whence that effect proceeds. Of the ef- 
fects, for instance, which spring from the union of mind and 
body, in the human constitution, we have a lively percep- 
tion ; but of the principle upon which that union is founded, 
we cannot form the most remote conception. 

Tllus. 1. But to illustrate that our purest and most correct notions 
of power are derived from mind, lay a ball on a billiard table, and 
it lies at rest ; but bring a mace in contact with the ball, and it is 
instantly put in motion. In this case, though the hand of a human 
being moved the mace — though the mace hitting the ball put it in 
. motion — the source of that motion is traced up to the mind, which, 
by an act of the will to move the ball, stretches forth the bodily or- 
gan that grasped the mace. 

2. Again, let us conceive a painter painting his own likeness. 
The brush which he uses, and which comes in contact with the 
canvass, possesses no power of forming a like-ness of itself, far less 



chap. r. Terms defined and explained. 21 

of the human countenance. Nor is the power in the hand of the 
artist, which, as in the former example, obeys the will ; nor in hi?- 
e/c, though it be the chief organ on which the correctness of the. 
likeness depends ; and it resides not in the mirror, which takes no 
part in the operation of painting; but the source of motion in the 
eye and in the hand, is in the mind, which, by an act of the will, ex- 
erts the eye in viewing one object, and in conveying back to the 
mind its view of another object, that the hand delineates. 

1G. It is said above, that the terms faculty and power 
have nearly the same radical meaning. The term power i? 
used in relation both to material and mental objects. Thus 
a stone has the power of falling to the ground. The term 
faculty is used in reference to the understanding and voli- 
tion of the human mind. The terms now defined are not 
applied to the passions of the soul of man t for to those active 
energies, or principles, as desire, hatred, joy, love, anger, re- 
venge, &c. we never use such expressions as the " faculty 
of desire," or the " power of hatred." 

17. There is a distinction between things in the mind 
and things external to the mind. The powers, faculties, and 
operations of the mind, are things in the mind. Every 
thing is said to be in the mind of which the mind is the sub- 
ject. 

18. It is evident, that there are some things which cannot 
exist without a subject to which they belong, or of which 
they are attributes. 

Ittus. Thus, colour must be in something coloured; figure in 
something figured ; thought being an act of mind, can only belong 
to something that acts or thinks ; and volition cannot exist but in 
some being that wills. When, therefore, we speak of things in the 
mind, we understand by this, things of which the mind is the sub- 
ject. 

19. Excepting the mind itself, and things within the mind, 
all other things are said to be external, or without the mind. 

20. There is a figurative sense in which things are said 
to be in the mind. 

IUus. Thus we say, such a thing is not in our mind, meaning no 
more than that we had net the least thought of it. For, by a figure, 
we put the thing for the thought of it. In this sense, external things 
are in the mind as often as they are objects of thought. 

21. Thinking is a very general word, that includes all 
the operations of our minds. 

22. To perceive, to remember, to be conscious, and to 
conceive or imagine, are words that signify different opera- 
tions of mind, which are distinguished in all languages, and 
by all men that think. 



22 A Grammar of Logic, book i, 

Illus. 1. We are never said to perceive things, of the existence of 
which we have not a full conviction. We may conceive or imagine 
a mountain of gold, or a winged-horse ; but no man says that he 
perceives such a creature of imagination as a winged horse. Thus, 
perception is distinguished from conception, or imagination. 

2. Perception is applied only to external objects, not to those 
that are in the mind itself. When I am pained, I do not say, that I 
perceive pain, but that I feel it, or that I am conscious of it. Thus, 
perception is distinguished from co9iscious?iess. 

3. The immediate object of perception must be something pre* 
sent, and not what is past. We may remember what is past, but we 
do not perceive it. I may say, I perceive such a person has had the 
small pox ;.but this phrase is figurative, although the figure is so fa- 
miliar that it is not observed. The meaning of it is, that I perceive 
the pits in his face, which are certain signs of his having had the 
small-pox. We say that we perceive the thing signified, when we 

' perceive only the sign. But when the word perception is used pro- 
perly, and without any figure, it is never applied to tilings past ; 
and thus it is distinguished from remembrance. 

23. Perception is most properly applied to the evidence 
which we have of external objects by our senses. Seeing, 
hearing, smelling, tasting, and touching or feeling, are words 
that express the operations proper to each sense ; perceiv- 
ing expresses that which is common to them all. 

24. Consciousness signifies that immediate knowledge 
,. hich we have of our present thoughts and purposes, and, 
in general, of all the present operations of our minds. To 
apply consciousness, therefore, to things past, is to con- 
found it with memory. 

Consciousness is only of things in the mind, and not of 
things external, or without the mind. 

25. Conceiving, imagining, and apprehending, are com- 
monly used as synonymous in our language, and signify the 
same thing which the logicians call simple apprehension. 

Illus. Simple apprehension is an operation of mind different from 
all those we have mentioned. Whatever we perceive, whatever 
we remember, whatever we are conscious of, we have a full per- 
suasion or conviction of its existence. But we may conceive or 
imagine what has no existence, and what we firmly believe to have 
no existence. What never had an existence cannot be remembered; 
what has no existence at present cannot be the object of perception 
or of consciousness ; but that which never had existence, or that 
which has no existence, may be conceived. Every man knows, 
that it is as easy to conceive a winged-horse, or a centaur, as it is to 
conceive a horse, or a man. 

Carol. Let it be observed, therefore, that to conceive, to imagine, 
to apprehend, when taken in the proper sense, signify an act of the 
mind which implies no belief or judgment at all. It is an act of the 
mind by which nothing is affirmed or denied, and which therefore 
can be neither true nor false. 



chap. i. Terms defined and explained. 23 

26. When these words are used as above, to express sim- 
ple apprehension, they are followed by a noun in the accu- 
sative or objective case, which signifies the object conceived ; 
as I conceive an Egyptian pyramid. This implies no judg- 
ment. 

27. But there is another and a very different meaning of 
those words, so common and so well authorised in language, 
that it cannot easily be avoided; and, on that account, we 
ought to be the^more on our guard, that we be not misled by 
the ambiguity. 

Illus. Politeness and g'ood-breeding lead men, on most occa- 
sions, to express their opinions with modesty, especially when they 
differ from others whom they respect. Therefore, when a man 
would express his opinion modestly, instead of saying-, " This is my 
opinion," or, " This is my judgment," which has the air of dogmat- 
icalness ; he says, " I conceive it to be thus, I imagine, or I appre- 
hend, it to be thus," which is understood as a modest judgment. In 
like manner, when any thing is said which we take to be impossi- 
ble, we say, " We cannot conceive how it could be," thereby inti- 
mating, that we cannot believe it. 

28. But when the words conceive, imagine, or apprehend, 
are used to express opinion or judgment, they are common- 
ly followed by a verb in the infinitive mood ; as, I conceive 
the Egyptian pyramids to be the most ancient monuments of 
human art. 

Illas. This implies judgment. When the words are used in this 
last sense, the thing conceived must be a proposition, because judg- 
ment cannot be expressed but by a proposition. When they are 
used in the fh-st sense (26.), the thing conceived may be no propo- 
sition, but a simple term only ; as a pyramid, an obelisk. Yet even 
a proposition may be simply apprehended, without forming any 
judgment of its truth or falsehood ; for it is one thing to conceive tho* 
meaning of a proposition ; it is another thing to judge it to be true 
or false. 

29. Most of the operations of mind, from their very na- 
ture, must have objects to which they are directed, and 
about which they are employed. He that perceives, must 
perceive something ; and that which he perceives is called 
the object of his perception. 

Carol. It is, therefore, impossible to perceive without having 
some object of perception. The mind that perceives, the object 
perceived, and the operation of perceiving that object, are distinct 
things, and are distinguished in the structure of all languages. 

SO. In this sentence, I see, or perceive the moon ; I is the 
person or mind ; the active verb see, denoles the operation 
of that mind ; and the moon denotes the object. 



.A A Grammar of Logic book j. 

31. What we have said of perceiving, is equally applica- 
ble to most operations of mind, which are, in all languages, 
expressed by active transitive verbs ; and such verbs require 
an agent and an object. 

Corol. Whence it is evident, that all mankind, both those who 
kave contrived language, and those who use it with understanding 1 , 
have distinguished these three things as different ; to wit, the 
operations of the mind, which are expressed by active verbs, the 
mind itself, which is the nominative to those verbs ; and the object. 
which is the oblique case governed by them. 

32. The word idea, in popular language, signifies precise- 
ly the same thing that we commonly express by the active 
participles conceiving ox apprehending. 

Illus. 1. Thus, to have an idea of a thing, is to conceive it. To 
have a distinct idea of it, is to conceive it distinctly. To have no 
idea of it, is not to conceive it at all. 

2. Idea, therefore, sig-nifies the same thing as conception, appre- 
hension, notion. / 

33. When the word idea is taken in this popular sons.-. 
no man can possibly doubt whether he has ideas ; for he that 
doubts must think, and to think is to have ideas. 

S4f The term idea, coming from the Greek verb Uuv, pro- 
perly signifies a thought, representative of such objects as 
have been perceived by the sense of sight. 

Obs. It is solely owing to the poverty of language that this word 
is also used for the notions which we have of things, received by 
means of the other senses ; and, farther still, to those primary no- 
tions or elements of abstract thought, which compose trains of ar- 
gument and chains of reasoning, in the mind of the philosopher or 
the statesman. 

35. When, therefore, in common language, we speak of 
having an idea of any thing, we mean no more by that ex- 
pression than to conceive of it. 

Illus. But as we cannot conceive, or have a notion of any thing 
without thinking of it, to constitute an idea implies a mind that 
thinks ; an act of the mind which we call thinking ; and an object 
about which we think. 

36. The word idea, however, in a philosophical sense, 
means some image, or representative of an external object 
present to the mind. 

Mlus. 1. The idea is in the mind itself, and can have no existence 
but in a mind that thinks ; but the remote or mediate object may be 
something external, as the sun or moon ; it may be something past 
or future ; it may be something which never existed ; and we may 
observe that this meaning is built upon a pliilosophical opinion. 

2. For, if philosophers had not believed that there are such im- 



'"hap. i. Terms defined and explained. 23 

mediate objects of all our thoughts in the mind, they would never 
have used the word idea to express them. 

3. But the term idea taken in this sense, is to be considered a 
mere fiction of philosophers ; and use, the arbiter of language, hath 
now, in all popular discussions, authorized as synonyma the words 
thought, notion, apprehension, and idea, 

37. When a figure is stamped upon a body by pressure, 
that figure is called an impression, as the impression of a 
seal on wax, or of printing-types, or of a copper-plate, on 
paper. This seems now to be the literal sense of the word ; 
the eftect borrowing its name from the cause. 

Obs. But by metaphor or analogy, like most other words, its mea- 
ning is extended, to signify any change produced in a body by the 
operation of some external cause. A blow of the hand makes no 
impression on a stone-wall ; but a battery of cannon may. The 
moon raises a tide in the ocean,i5ut makes no perceptible impres- 
sion on rivers and lakes. 

38. When we speak of making an impression on the 
mind, the word is carried still farther from its literal mean- 
ing ; use, however, which, as we have observed above, is the 
ai-biter of language, authorizes this application of it ; as 
when we say that admonition and rppmnf make little im- 
pression on those who are confirmed in bad habits-. The 
same discourse delivered in one way makes a strong impres- 
sion on the hearers ; delivered in another way it makes no 
impression at all. 

Illus. 1. Now, in such examples, an impression made on the mind 
always implies some change of purpose or will ; some new habit 
produced, or some former habit weakened ; some passion raised or 
allayed. When such changes are produced by persuasion, exam- 
ple, or any external cause, we say that such causes make an im- 
pression upon the mind. But when things are seen, or heard, or 
apprehended, without producing any passion, or emotion, we 9ay 
that they make no impression. 

2. In the most extensive sense, an impression is a change produ- 
ced in some passive subject by the operation of an external cause, 
If we suppose an active being to produce any change in itself by 
its own active power, this is never called an impression. It is the act 
or operation of the being itself, not an impression upon it. From 
this it appears, that to give the name of an impression to any effect 
produced in the mind, is to suppose that the mind does not act at all 
in the production of that effect. 

3. If seeing, hearing, desiring, willing, be operations of the mind, 
they cannot be impressions. If they be impressions, they cannot 
be operations of the mind. In the structure of all languages, they 
are considered as acts or operations of the mind itself, and the names 
given them imply this. To call them impressions, therefore, is to 
trespass against the structure, not of a particular language only, but 
; ;' ill languages. 



A Grammar of Logic. 



BOOK, i. 



Carol. The term impression, consequently, in the department of 
logic and mental science, merely denotes whatever produces that 
change in the mind which is necessary to perceive an object, or to 
form a thought. 

39. Sensation is a name given by philosophers to an act 
of mind, which may be distinguished from all others by this, 
that it hath no object distinct from the object itself. 

Mus. Pain of every kind is an uneasy sensation. When I am 
pained, I cannot say, that the pain I feel is one thing, and that my 
feeling it is another tiling. They are one and the same thing, and 
cannot be disjoined even in imagination. Pain, when it is not felt, 
has no existence. It can be neither greater nor less in degree, or 
duration, nor any thing else in kind, than it is felt to be. It cannot 
oxist b}' itself, nor in any subject, but in a sentient being. No qual- 
ity of any inanimate and insentient being can have the least resem- 
blance to it. 

40. What we have said of pain may be applied to every 
other sensation ; some of them are agreeable, others uneasy, 
in various degrees. 

Obs. These being objects of desire or aversion, have some atten- 
tion given to them ; but many are indifferent, and so little attended 
to, that they have no name in any language. 

41. Most operations of the mind, that have names in com- 
mon language, are complex in their nature, and made up of 
various ingredients, or more simple acts ; which, though 
conjoined in our constitutions, must be disjoined by abstrac- 
tion, in order to our having a distinct and scientific notion 
of the complex operation. In such operations, -sensation, 
lor the most part, makes an ingredient. Those who do not 
attend to the complex nature of such operations;' are apt to 
resolve them into some one of the simple acts of which they 
are compounded, overlooking others. 

Obs. Nothing, therefore, is of so much importance as to have a 
distinct notion of that simple act of the mind which we call sensa- , 
tion, without puzzling ourselves about the particular nature of the 
change effected in the organ, in the nerves, or in the brain, by the 
secondary qualities of matter, in the process which constitutes sen- 
sation, and of which we can have no clearer knowledge than if we 
ourselves were not the subjects of that mysterious operation. 

42. The w ord feeling hath two meanings. 

First, It signifies the perceptions which we have of ex- 
ternal objects, by the sense of touch. When we speak of 
feeling a body to be hard or soft, rough or smooth, hot or 
cold ; to feel these things, is to perceive them by touch. 

Secondly, The word feeling is used to signify the same 
thing as sensation, which we have just explained: and in 



chap. ii. Principles taken* for granted. % 

this sense, it has no object; the feeling and the thing felt, 
are one and the same. 

Obs. Perhaps betwixt feeling-, taken in this last sense, and sensa- 
tion, there may be this small difference, that sensation is most com- 
monly used to signify those feelings which we have by our external 
senses and bodily appetites, and all our bodily pains and pleasures. 
Rut there are feelings of a nobler nature accompanying- our affec- 
tions, our moral judgments, and our determinations in matters of 
'.aste, to which the word sensation is less properly applied. 

JYote. Other words that need explication, shall be explained as 
*.ijey occur 



CHAPTER II. 

PRINCIPLES TAKEN FOR GRANTED. 

43. A general rule, when applied to regulate particu • 
iars, is termed a principle ; and explanations or injunctions 
from principle are termed theory, or system. The particu- 
lars to be explained are termed phenomena. 

Obs. As there are words common to philosophers and to the un- 
learned, which need no explication ; so there are principles com- 
mon to both which need no proof, and which do not admit of di- 
rect proof. 

44. Such principles, when we have occasion to use them 
in science, are called axioms. 

Ulus. Thus, mathematicians, before they attempt to prove any 
proposition in mathematics, lay down certain axioms or common prin- 
ciples, upon which the) 1, build their reasoning's. And althoug-h those 
axioms be truths which every man knew before ; such as, '•' That the 
whole is greater than a part" — " that equal quantities added to 
equal quantities make equal sums ;" yet, when we see nothing- as- 
sumed in the proof of mathematical propositions, but auch self-evi- 
dent axioms, the propositions appear more certain, and leave no 
room for doubt or dispute. 

45. In every other science, as well as in mathematics, it 
will be found that there are a few common principles, upon 
which all the reasonings in that science are grounded, and 
into which they may be resolved. If these principles were 
pointed out and explained, we should be better able to judge 
what stress may be laid upon the conclusions in that science. 
If the principles be certain, the conclusions justly drawn 
from them must be certain. If the principles be only pro- 
bable, the conclusions can only be probable. If the pi 



£8 A Grammar of Logic. eooki. 

pies be false, dubious, or obscure, the superstructure that is 
built upon them must partake of the weakness of the foun- 
dation. 

Illus. Thus, Sir Isaac Newton, by laying down the common prin- 
ciples or axioms, on which the reasonings in natural philosophy are 
built, laid a solid foundation in that science, and reared on it a no- 
ble superstructure, about which there is no .more dispute or contro- 
versy among men of knowledge, than there is about the conclu- 
sions of mathematics. Yet are the first principles of natural philos- 
ophy of a nature quite different from mathematical axioms. They 
have not the same kind of evidence, nor are they necessary truths, 
as mathematical axioms are. They are such as these, " that simi- 
lar effects proceed from the same or similar causes ; that we ought 
to admit of no other causes of natural effects, but such as are true, 
and sufficient to account for the effects." These are principles, 
which, though they have not the same kind of evidence that math- 
ematical axioms have ; yet have such evidence, that every man of 
common understanding readily assents to them, and finds it abso- 
lutely necessary to conduct his actions and opinions by them, in the 
ordinary affairs of life. 

46. In like manner, there are some things which we 
shall take for granted, as first principles in treating of the 
mind and its faculties ; or of a rational and useful logic. 

47. The evidence of first principles is not demonstrative 
but intuitive. They require not proof, but to be placed in a 
proper point of view. 

48. First, then, we shall take it for granted, that man 
thinks, remembers, reasons, and, in general, that he really 
performs all those operations of mind, of which he is con- 
scious. 

Jlhis. The operations of our minds are attended with conscious- 
ness ; and this consciousness is the evidence, the only evidence 
which we have, or can have, of their existence. Every man finds 
himself under a necessity of believing what consciousness testifies, 
and every thing that hath this testimony is to be taken as a first 
principle. 

49. As by consciousness we know certainly the existence 
of our present thoughts and passions ; so we know the past 
by remembrance. And when they are recent, and the re- 
membrance of them fresh, the knowledge of them, from such 
distinct remembrance, is, in its certainty and evidence, next 
to that of consciousness. 

50. When we make our own thoughts and passions, and 
the various operations of our minds the objects of our atten- 
tion, either while they are present, or when they are recent 
and fresh in our memory, this act of the mind is called re- 
flection. 



chap. h. Principles taken for granted. 29 

Corol. Wc take it for granted, therefore, that by attentive reflec- 
• ion, a man may have a clear and certain knowedge of the opera- 
tions of his own mind ; a knowledge no less clear and certain, than 
that which he has of an external object when it is set before his eyes. 

51. This reflection is a kind of intuition, it gives a like 
conviction with regard to internal objects, or things in the 
mind, as the faculty of seeing gives with regard to the ob- 
jects of sight. 

Corol. A man must, therefore, be convinced beyond the possibil- 
ity of doubt, of every thing with regard to the operations of his own 
poind, which he clearly and distinctly discerns by attentive reflection. 

52. We shall take it for granted, that all the thoughts 
which a man is conscious of, or remembers, are the thoughts 
of one and the same thinking principle, which he calls him- 

"lj\ or his mind. 

Illus. 1. Every man has an immediate and irresistible conviction, 
not only of his present existence, but of his continued existence and 
identity as far back as he can remember. 

2. Every man of a sound mind feels himself under a necessity of 
believing his own identity, and continued existence. The convic- 
tion of this is immediate and irresistible ; and if he should lose this 
conviction, it would be a certain proof of insanity, which is not to 
be remedied by reasoning. 

55. We shall take it for granted, that there are some 
things which cannot exist by themselves, but must be in 
something else to which they belong, as qualities, or attri- 
butes. 

Illus. Thus, motion cannot exist but in something that is moved . 
For, to suppose that there can be motion while everything- is at rest, 
is a g-ross and palpable absurdity. In like manner, hardnes 
softness, sweetness and bitterness, are tilings which cannot exist by 
themselves. They are qualities of some thing which is hard ox- 
soft, sweet or bitter. That thing, whatever it be, of which they are 
qualities, is called their subject, and such qualities necessarily sup 
pose a subject, 

54. Things which may exist by themselves, and which 
do not suppose the existence of any thing else, are called 
substances i and with relation to the qualities or attributes 
that belong to them, they are railed the subjects of such 
qualities or attributes. And, in respect to material objects, 
we give the name of ho'Iy to that which is the subject of 
these qualities or attributes. 

55. In like manner, those operations' of which a man i> 
conscious, such as thought, reasoning, desire, necessarily 
suppose something that thinks, reasons, and desires. We 
do not give the name tfrnind to thought, reason, or desire : 

4 



80 -A Grammar of Logic. book:- 

but to thai being which thinks, which reasons, and which 
desires. 

56. That every act, or operation, therefore, supposes an 
agent, that every quality supposes a subject, are things which 
we do not attempt to prove, but take for granted. Every 
man of common understanding discerns this immediately, 
and cannot entertain the least doubt of it. 

57. In all languages, we find certain words which, by 
grammarians, are called adjectives. Such words denote 
attributes ; and every adjective must have a substantive to 
which it belongs, because every attribute must have a sub- 
ject. . . , 

58. In all languages, we find active verbs, which denote 
some action or operation : and it is a fundamental rule in 
the grammar of all languages, that such a verb supposes a 
person, that is, in other words, every action must have an 
agent. 

Carol. We take it, therefore, as a first principle, that goodness, wis- 
dom, and virtue, can only be in some being that is good, wise, and vir- 
tuous ; that thinking supposes a being that thinks, and that every 
operation of which we are conscious supposes an agentthat operates, 
which we call mind. 

59. We take it for granted, that in most operations of the 
mind, there must be an object distinct from the operation 
itself. 

Illus. 1. I cannot see, without seeing something. To see with- 
out having an object of sight is absurd. I cannot remember, with- 
out remembering something. The thing remembered is past, while 
the remembrance of it is present ; and therefore the operation and 
the object of it must be distinct things. 

2. I remember the comet of 1811. Here the act of remember- 
ing is present, but the comet, which is the object of this act, is ab- 
sent; whence the operation and the object of that operation are 
distinct things. 

60. We ought likewise to take for granted, as first princi- 
ples, things wherein we find an universal agreement among 
the learned anil unlearned, in the different ages of the 
world. 

Obs. A consent of ages and nations, of the learned and unlearn- 
ed, ought, at least, to have great authority, unless we can shew 
some prejudice, as universal as that consent is, which might be its 
oause. Truth is one, but error is infinite. 

Carol. An universal consent in things gives the greatest presump- 
tion that can be, that such a consent is the natural result of the hu- 
man faculties, and must have great authority with every sober mind 
that loves truth. 



chap. ji. Principles taken for granted. 31 

61. Though it may be impossible to collect the opinions 
of all men upon all points, there are many cases in which it 
is otherwise ; so that the foregoing postulate will still hold 
good. 

Obs. Who can doubt, for instance, whether mankind have, in all 
ages, believed the existence of a material world, and that those 
things which we see and handle, are real and not mere illusions and 
apparitions ? Who can doubt whether mankind have universally 
believed that very thing - that begins to exist, must have a cause ? 
Who can doubt, whether mankind have been universally persuaded 
that there is a right and a wrong in human conduct ? Some things, 
which in certain circumstance, they ought to do, and other thing 1 ? 
which they ought not to do ? 

Carol. The universality of these opinions, and of many such that 
might be named, is sufficiently evident, from the whole tenor of 
men's conduct, as far as our acquaintance reaches, and from the 
records of historians of all nations, transmitted to us from the remo- 
test ages. 

62. There are other opinions that appear to be univer- 
sal, from what is common in the structure of all languages, 
ancient and modern, polished and barbarous. Language is 
the express image and picture of human thoughts ; and from 
the picture, we may often draw certain conclusions with re- 
gard to the original. 

Mus. l. We ftml in all lcuiguagc» ilie same" parts of speech, 
noun, substantive and adjective ; verbs active and passive, varied 
according to the tenses of past, present, and future ; we find ad- 
verbs, prepositions, and conjunctions. There are general rules of 
syntax common to all languages. This uniformity in the structure 
of language, shews a certain degree of uniformity in those notions 
upon which the structure of language is founded. 

2. We find in the structure of all languages, the distinction of 
acting and being acted upon, the distinction of action and agent, of 
quality and subject, and many others of the like kind ; which 
shews that these distinctions are founded in the universal sense of 
mankind. 

Corol. There are many occasions on which it is necessary to ar- 
gue from the sense of mankind expressed in the structure of lan- 
guage ; and therefore it was proper at the threshold to take notice 
of the force of arguments drawn from this topic. 

63. We shall also take for granted, as first principles, 
such facts as are attested to the conviction of all sober men, 
either by their senses, by memory, or by human testimony. 

Obs. 1. For, though scepticism may endeavour to discredit the 
testimony of the senses, we never heard of any sceptic who struck 
his head against a post, or stept into a kennel because he did not 
believe his eyes. 

2. Let us, however, be cautious, that we do not adopt opinions 



32 A Grammy? oj Logic. e:ook r, 

as first principles, which are not entitled to that charaetei\ Let us 
deal with every thing- offered as a first principle, as an upright 
judge does with a witness who has a fair character. He pays a re- 
gard to the testimony of such witness, while his character is unim- 
peached ; but if it can be shewn that he is suborned, or that he is 
influenced by malice or partial favour, his testimony loses all cred- 
it, and is justly rejected. 



CHAPTER IJf. 

OF HYPOTHESES. 

64. Every branch of human knowledge hath its proper 
principles, its proper foundation and method of reasoning ; 
and if we endeavour to build upon any other foundation, the 
fabric we raise will never stand firm. 

Illus. 1. Thus, the historian builds upon testimony, and rarely 
indulges conjecture. 

2. The antiquary mixes conjecture with testimony ; and the for- 
mer often makes the larger ingredient. 

3. The mathematician pays not the least regard either to testi- 
mony or conjecture, but deduces everything, by demonstrative rea- 
soning-, from hie definitions and axioms. 

Carol. Whatever, therefore, is built upon conjecture, is improp- 
erly called science ; for though conjecture may beget opinion, it 
cannot produce knowledge. Natural philosophy must be built up- 
on the iaws of the material system^ discovered by observation and 
experiment. 

65. When men began to philosophize, or to carry their 
thoughts beyand the objects of sense, and to inquire into 
the causes of things, their ignorance of a scientific way of 
proceeding in such philosophical disquisitions, gave birth to 
conjecture. 

Illus. Accordingly we find that the most ancient systems, in eve- 
ry branch of philosophy, were nothing but the conjectures of men 
famous for their wisdom, whose fame gave authority to their opinr 
jons. 

Example. Thus, in early ages, wise men conjectured that the 
earth was a vast plain, s*irrounded on all sides by a boundless 
ocean ; that from this ocean, the sun, moon, and stars, emerged at 
their rising, and plung-ed into it again at their setting. 

66. With regard to the mind, men in their rudest state 
are apt to conjecture that the principle of life in man is his 
breath ; because the most obvious distinction between a liv- 



chap. in. Of Hypothesis. 33 

ing and a dead man is, that the one breathes, and the other 
does not. 

Obs. To this it is owing 1 that, in ancient languages, the word 
which denotes the sonl, is that which properly signifies breath, or air, 

67. As men advance in knowledge, their first conjectures 
appear silly and childish, and give place to others which 
agree better with later observations and discoveries. Thus, 
one system of philosophy succeeds another, without any 
claim to superior merit, but this, that it is a more ingenious 
system of conjectures, and accounts better for common ap- 
pearances. 

Jllvs. Des Caries thus conjectured, that the heavenly bodies are 
carried round by a vortex or whirlpool of subtile matter, just as 
straws and chafl' are earned round in a tub of water. He conjec- 
tured also, that the soul is seated in a small gland in the brain, cal- 
led the pineal gland : that there, as in her presence chamber, she 
receives intelligence of every thing that affects the senses, by 
means of a subtile fluid contained in the nerves, and called animal 
spirits ; and that she dispatches these animal spirits as her messen- 
gers, to put in motion the several muscles of the bod)', as there is 
occasion. By such conjectures as these Des Cartes could account 
for every phenomenon in nature, in such a plausible manner, as 
gave satisfaction to a great part of the learned world for more than 
half a century. 

68. Such conjecture?, in philosophical matters, have com- 
monly received the name of hypotheses, or theories. 

Obs. 1. And the invention of any hypothesis which, founded on 
some slight probabilities, accounts for many appearances of nature, 
has been considered as the highest attainment of a philosopher. 
If the hypothesis hangs well together, is embellished by a lively 
imagination, and serves to account for common appearances, it is 
considered by many as having all the qualities that should recom- 
mend it to our belief; and all that ought to be required in a phi- 
losophical system 

2. There is such proneness in men of genius to invent hypothe- 
ses, and in others to acquiesce in them, as the utmost that the hu- 
man faculties can attain in philosophy, that it is of the last conse- 
quence to the progress of real knowledge, that men should have a 
clear and distinct understanding- of the nature of hypotheses in phi- 
losophy, and of the regard that is due to them. 

69. Although some conjectures may have a considerable 
degree of probability, yet it is evidently in the nature of 
conjecture to be uncertain. In every case, the assent ought 
to be proportioned to the evidence; for to believe firmly 
what has but a small degree of probability, is a manifest 
abuse of our understanding. 

Obs. If a child were to conjecture how an army is to be ftrmedl 
4* 



34 A Grammar of Logic. book, r, 

in the day of battle, how a city is to be fortified, or a state govern- 
ed ; what chance has he to guess right ? As little chance would a 
thousand of the greatest wits whom the world ever produced, have, 
without any previous knowledge in anatomy, to contrive how and 
by what internal organs, the various functions of the human body 
are carried on ; how the blood is made to circulate, and the limbs to 
move. 

70. Of all the discoveries that have been raade concerning 
the inward structure of the human body, never one was 
made by conjecture. 

Mies. Accurate observations of anatomists have brought to light 
innumerable artifices of nature in the contrivance of this machine 
of the human body, which we cannot but admire as excellently 
adapted to their several purposes. But the most sagacious phisi- 
ologist never dreamed of them till they were discovered. On the 
other hand, innumerable conjectures, formed in different ages, with 
regard to the structure of the body, have been confuted by obser- 
vation, and none evex confirmed. 

71. What we have said of the internal structure of the 
human body, may be said, with justice, of every other part 
of the works of God, wherein any real discovery has been 
made. 

Obs. Such discoveries have always been made by patient observa- 
tion, by accurate experiments, or by conclusions drawn by strict 
ref soning from observations and experiments ; and such discoveries 
have always tended to refute, but not to confirm, the theories and 
hyhotheses which ingenious men had invented. 

Illus. 1. The finest productions of human art are immensely short 
of the meanest productions of nature. The nicest plumasier cannot 
make a feather. Nor could any society of chemists and meteorolo- 
gists cover the hills with mists, and the face of the sky with clouds. 
Human workmanship will never bear a comparison with the work- 
manship of nature. 

2. The Indian phiosopher being at a loss to know how the Earth 
was supported, invented the hypotheses of a huge elephant, on 
whose back it rested : and the elephant he supposed to stand on a 
fou^e tortoise. This hypothesis, how ridiculous soever it appears to 
us, might seem very reasonable to other Indians, who knew no more 
of it than the inventor, and never inquired, What did the tortoise- 
stand on ? 

72. Let us, therefore, lay down this as a fundamental 
principle in our inquiries into the structure of the mind, and 
its operations, that no regard is due to the conjectures or hy- 
potheses of philosophers, how ancient soever, however gen- 
erally received. Let us accustom ourselves to try every 
opinion by the touchstone of fact and experience. What 
can fairly be dedu&ed from facts dulv observed, or sufficient- 



chap- iv. Of Analogy. 35 

ly attested, is genuine and pure ; it is the voice of Nature, 
and no fiction of human imagination. 

73. The first rule of philosophizing, laid down by the 
great Newton, is this : — " No more causes, nor any other 
causes of natural effects, ought to be admitted, but such as 
are boih true, and are sufficient for explaining their appear- 
ances.*' This is the golden rule ; it is the true and proper 
test, whereby what is sound and solid in philosophy may be 
distinguished from what is hollow and vain. 

Corol. It* a philosopher, therefore, pretend to show us the cause 
of any natural effect, whether relating- to matter or mind ; let us first 
consider whether there be sufficient evidence that the cause he as- 
signs does really exist. If there be not, reject it with disdain as a 
fiction which ought to have no place in genuine philosophy. If the 
cause assigned really exist, consider, in the next place, whether the 
effect it is brought to explain necessarily follows from it. Unless 
it have these two conditons:, it is good for nothing. 



CHAPTER IV. 

OF ANALOGY. 

74. Ir is natural to men to judge of things less known, by 
some similitude which they observe, or which they think 
>bserve, between them and things more familiar or bet- 
ter known. This method of judging is called Analogy ; 
and in many cases we have no better way of judging. And 
where the things compared have really a great similitude in 
their nature, when there is reason to think that they are sub- 
ject to the same laws, there may be considerable degrees of 
probability in conclusions drawn from analogy. 

IHus. Thus we may observe a very great similitude between this 
Earth which we inhabit, and the other planets, Herschel, Saturn, Ju- 
piter, Mars, Venus, and Mercury. They all revolve round the Sun, 
as the Earth does, although at different distances and in different 
periods of time. They all borrow their lig-htfrom the Sun, as the 
Earth does. They revolve round their axes like the Earth round 
her axis, and, by that means, must have a regular succession of day 
and night. Some of them have moons, which serve to give them 
light in the absence of the Sun, as our Moon does to us. They 
are all, in their motions, subject to the same law of gravitation, a^ 
the Earth is. From all this similitude, it is not unreasonable to think, 
that those planets may, like our Earth, be the habitation ; anous 
orders of living creatures ; nay, of sentient natures. Thei .ja;o 

probability in this conclusion from analogy. 



56 Jl Grammar of Logic. book i. 

75. Iu medicine, physicians must, for the most part, be 
directed in their prescriptions by analogy. 

Bins. The constitution of one human body is so like to that of 
another, that it is reasonable to think, that what is the cause 
of health or sickness to one, may have the same effect upon anoth- 
er. And this is generally found true, though not without some ex- 
ceptions. ' 

76. In politics we reason, for the most part, from analogy. 
The constitution of human nature is similar in different so- 
cieties, or commonwealths ; hence we conclude, that the 
causes of peace and war, of tranquillity and sedition, of rich- 
es and poverty, of improvement and degeneracy, are much 
the same in all. 

Carol. Analogical reasoning, therefore, is not in all cases to be 
rejected. It may afford a greater or a less degree of probability, 
according as the things compared are more or less similar in their 
nature. But it ought to be observed, that, as this kind of reason- 
ing can afford only probable evidence at best ; so, unless great 
caution be used, we are apt to be led into error by it. For we are 
naturally disposed to conceive a greater similitude between things 
tban there really is. 

77. To give an instance of this. Anatomists, in ancient 
times, seldom dissected human bodies ; but very often the 
bodies of those quadrupeds whose internal structure was 
thought to approach nearest to that of the human body. 
Modern anatomists, by the actual dissection of human bodies, 
liave discovered many mistakes into which the ancients were 
led, by their conceiving a greater similitude between the 
structure of men and of some beast, than there is in reality. 

Carol. By this, and many other instances that might be given, it 
appears, that conclusions built on analogy stand on a slippery 
foundation ; and that we ought never to rest upon evidence of this 
kind, when we can have more direct proof, 

78. We form an early acquaintance, by means of our 
senses, with material things, and are bred up in a constant 
familiarity with them. Hence, we are apt to measure all 
things by them ; and to ascribe to things most remote from 
matter, the qualities that belong to material things. 

Corol. It is for this reason that mankind have, in all ages, be'en so 
prone to conceive the mind itself to be some subtile kind of 
matter : that they have been disposed to ascribe human figure and 
human organs not only to angels, but even to the Deity ! 

79. We are conscious of the operations of our own minds, 
when they are exerted ; we are even capable of attending to 
them, so as to form a distinct notion of them, but this is so 



chap. iv. Of Analogy. ST 

difficult a work to men, whose attention is constantly solici- 
ted by external objects, that we give them names from things 
that are familiar, and which are conceived to have some sim- 
ilitude to those operations ; and the notions we form of them 
are no less analogical than the names we give them. 

80. Almost all the words, by which we express the ope- 
rations of the mind, are borrowed from material objects. 

Illaa. To understand, to conceive, to imagine, to comprehend, to de- 
liberate, to infer, and many other words, are of this kind : so that 
the very language of mankind, with regard to the operations of 
the mind, is analogical. 

81. Because bodies are affected only by contact and pres- 
sure, we are apt to conceive that what is an immediate object 
of thought, and affects the mind, must be in contact with it, 
and mane some impression on it. 

82. When we imagine any thing, the very word leads us 
to think that there must be some image in the mind of the 
thing conceived. 

Carol. It is evident that these notions are drawn from some simili 
tude conceived between body and mind, and between the proper- 
ties of body and the operations of mind. 

85. When a man is urged by contrary motives, those on 
one hand inciting him to do some action, those on the other 
to forbear it ; he deliberates about it, and at last resolves to 
do it, or not to do it. The contrary motives are here com- 
pared to weights in the opposite scales of a balance ; and 
there is not, perhaps, any instance that can be named of a 
more striking analogy between body and mind. 

Corol. Hence the phrases 'weighing motives, deliberating upon ac- 
*ioi>9, and the like, are common to all languages. 

84. From this analogy, some philosophers draw very im- 
portant conclusions. They say, that as the balance cannot 
incline to one side more than the other, when the opposite 
weights are equal, so a man cannot possibly determine him- 
self, if the motives on both hands are equal : and as the bal- 
ance must necessarily turn to that side which has most 
Aveight, so the will of the man must necessarily be determi- 
ned to that hand where the motive is strongest. 

Obs. And on this foundation some of the schoolmen maintain^. 
that if a hungry ass be placed between two bundles of hay equallj 
inviting, the beast must stand still and starve to death, being unable 
to turn to either, because the unfortunate animal has equal motive - 
to both the bundles. 

85. This is an instance of that analogical reasoning which 



38 A Grammar of Logic. book i. 

Dr. Reid conceives ought never to be trusted ; for the ana- 
logy between a balance and a man deliberating, though one 
of the strongest that can be found between matter and 
mind, is too weak to support any argument. A piece of 
dead, inactive matter, and an active and intelligent being, 
are things very unlike; and because the one would remain 
at rest in a certain case, it does not follow that the other 
would be inactive in a case somewhat similar. 

Elm. The argument is no better than this, that, because a dead 
animal moves only as it is pushed, and, if pushed with equal force 
in contrary directions, must remain at rest ; therefore, the same 
thing- must happen to a living animal ; for surely the similitude be- 
tween a dead animal and a living, is as great as between a balance 
and a man. 

Corol. The conclusion which results from all that has been said on 
analogy, is, that, in our inquiries concerning the mind and its oper- 
ations, we ought never to trust to reasonings drawn from some sup- 
posed similitude of body to mind ; and that we ought to be very 
much upon our guard, that we be not imposed upon by those ana- 
logical terms and phrases by which the operations of the mind are 
expressed in all languages. 



CHAPTER V. 

01- THE PROPER MEANS OF KNOWING THE OPERA- 
TIONS OF OUR OWN MINDS. 

86. Since we ought to pay no regard to hypotheses, and 
to be very suspicious of analogical reasoning, it may be 
asked, from what sources must the knowledge of the mind, 
and its faculties, be drawn ? I answer, from the three fol- 
lowing. The first is attention to the structure of language; 
because the language of mankind is expressive of their 
thoughts, and of the various operations of their minds. 

lllus. 1. Those operations which are common to mankind, have 
various forms of speech corresponding to them in all languages. 
These various forms of speech are the signs of the various opera- 
tions of the understanding, will, and passions ; and by those signs 
these operations are expressed. A due attention, therefore, to the 
signs may, in many cases, give considerable light to the things sig- 
nified by them. 

2. But languages, from their imperfections, can never be ade- 
quate to all the varieties of human thought. There may, there- 
fore, be things really distinct in their nature, and capable of being 
distinguished by the human mind, which are not distinguished iu 



chap. v. On knowing the Operations of our Mind. 39 

common language. There may also be peculiarities in a particular 
language, of the causes of which we are ignorant, and from which, 
therefore, we can draw no conclusion. But whatever we find com- 
mon to all languages must have a common cause ; must be owing to 
some common notion or sentiment of the human mind. 

87. The second source of information on this subject, is a 
due attention to the course of human actions and conduct. 
The actions of men are effects; their sentiments, their pas- 
sions, and their affections, are the causes of those effects ; 
and we may, in many cases, form a judgment of the cause, 
by observing the effect. 

Illus. 1. Thus, the behaviour of parents towards their children 
gives sufficient evidence, even to those who never had children, that 
the parental affection is common to mankind. The general conduct bf 
men, too, shows us what are the natural objects of their esteem, 
their admiration, their love, their approbation, their resentment, and 
of all their original dispositions. From the conduct of men in all 
ages, it is likewise obvious, that man is, by his nature, a social ani- 
mal ; that he delights to associate with his species ; to converse, and 
to exchange good offices with them. 

2. Not only the actions, but even the opinions of mankind, may 
sometimes give light into the frame of the human mind. The opin- 
ions of men may be considered as the effects of their intellectual 
powers, as their actions are the effects of their active principles. 
Even the prejudices and errors of mankind, when they are gene- 
ral, must have some cause no less general ; the discovery of which 
will throw some light upon the frame of the human understanding. 

88. The third, and main source of information, respect- 
ing the mind and its faculties, is accurate and attentive 
reflection upon the operations of our own mind. The 
power of the understanding to take notice of its own ope- 
rations, to attend to them, and examine them on all sides, is 
the power of reflection ; and all the notions we have of 
mind, and of its operations, have been called ideas of re- 
flection. 

Illus. 1. The term reflection implies nothing more than the de- 
liberate and mature exercise of consciousness. But, to acquire a 
habit of reflection upon the powers of our own minds, or of the de- 
Jib erate exercise of consciousness, is a work of time and labour, 
even to those who begin early, and whose natural talents are tolera- 
bly fitted for it. This is the last of the powers of the mind that un- 
folds itself, and though many persons seem incapable of acquiring 
it in any considerable degree, it may be greatly improved by exer- 
cise. It is by the proper employment of this power that men be- 
come fitted to discover the laws by which their own thoughts are 
regulated, and to make advances in the science of intellectual phi- 
losophy. 

2. When two persons are speaking to us at once, we can attend 
to either of them at pleasure, without being much disturbed by the 



40 A Grammar of Logic. book ri 

other. If we attempt to listen to both, we can understand neither. 
The fact seems to be, that when we attend constancy to one of the 
speakers, the words spoken by the other make no impression on 
the mind, in consequence of our not attending - to them ; and affect 
us as little as if they had not been uttered. This power, however, 
of the' mind, to attend to either speaker at pleasure, supposes 
that it is, at one and the same time, conscious of the sensations 
which both produce. And the power of reflection, in like manner, 
turns the mind inward, to view and observe its own actions and ope- 
rations ; but. art and pains are requisite to set it at a distance, as it 
were, from itself, and make it an object of its own scrutiny. Yet 
art and pains will daily diminish this difficulty, and thereby enable 
us to think with precision and accuracy on many important subjects, 
ff herein others must blindly follow a leader. 



CHAPTER VI. 

OF THE DIFFICULTY OF ATTENDING TO THE OPERA* 
TIONS OF OUR OWN MINDS, INTERSPERSED WITH 
OBSERVATIONS WHICH MAY ASSIST US IN OVERCOM- 
ING THIS DIFFICULTY. 

89. The difficulty of attending to our mental operations 
ought to be well understood, and justly estimated, by those 
who would make any progress in the art of logic ; that they 
may neither, on the one hand, expect success without labour 
and application of thought ; nor, on the other, be discoura- 
ged, by conceiving that the obstacles which lie in the way 
are insuperable, and that there is no certainty to be attained 
in the science of intellectual philosophy. 

Obs. The following developement of the causes of this difficulty, 
and the effects which have arisen from it, will enable us to form a 
true judgment of these causes and effects. 

90. The number and quick succession of the operations 
of the mind make it difficult to give due attention to them. 
It is well known, that if a number of objects be presented 
even to the eye (in quick succession) they are confounded 
in the mind and imagination. We retain a confused notion 
of the whole, and a more confused one of the several parts, 
especially if they are objects to which we have never before 
given particular attention. No succession can be more 
quick than that of thought. The mind is busy while we are 
awake, continually passing from one thought and one ope- 
ration to another. The scene is constantly shifting, You 



ap. vi. Attention to our Mental Operation*. . 4i 

will be instantly sensible of this, it* you try but for one 
minute to keep the same thought in your imagination with- 
out addition or variation. 

Illus. Think, for illustration, on Daniel cast into the lions' den ,. 
and you will find it impossible to keep the scene of your imagina- 
tion fixed. Other objects will intrude without being called : the. 
machinations of his enemies to get a royal statute established, that 
whosoever should ask a petition of any god or man for thirty dayi, 
save of king Darius, should be cast into the den of lions — the immu 
tability of the: laws of the Medes and Persians — the king's command 
— the remarkable presentiment of Darius, that the God whom Dan- 
iel served would deliver hiin — the king's disquietude over night — 
his going eai-ly to the den on the following morning - , and crying 
with a lamentable voice, O Daniel, servant of the living God, is thy 
God, whom thou servest continually, able to deliver thee from the 
lions ? — the reply of Daniel, " My God hath sent his angel and hath 
shut-the lions' mouths, that they have not hurt me" — the reason of 
this, " forasmuch as before him innocence was found in me" — the'ap- 
peal to Darius, " and also before thee, O king, have I done no hurt" 
— the punishment of the men who accused Daniel — of their wives 
and children — and, finally, the decree of the king, " that in every 
dominion of my kingdom men tremble and fear before the God of 
Daniel" — these, all these objects will intrude, without being called : 
and all you can do is to reject the intruders as quickly as possible, 
and return to the principal object, if you would picture to yourself 
only Daniel shut up in the lions' den. 

91. We proceed in this examination, contrary to habits 
which have been early acquired, and confirmed by long, 
unvaried practice. From infancy we are accustomed to 
attend to objects of sense, and to them only ; and, when 
sensible objects have acquired such strong hold of the at- 
tention by confirmed habit, it is not easy to dispossess them. 
When we grow up, a variety of external objects solicits our 
attention, excites our curiosity, engages our aftections, or 
touches our passions ; and the constant round of employ- 
ment about external objests, draws oft' the mind from atten- 
ding to itself. 

Ulus. Yet here much may be done by experience, and nothing 
will contribute so much to form this talent of reflection, as that study 
which has the operations of the mind for its object. By habituating- 
us to reflect on the subjects of our consciousness, it enables us to 
retard, in a considerable degree, the current of thought ; to arrest 
many of those ideas, which would otherwise escape our notice ; and 
to render the arguments, which we would employ for the conviction 
of others, an exact transcript of those trains of inquiry and reasor • 
ing, which originally led us to form our opinions. 

92. Mental operations, from their very nature, lead tke 
mind to give its attention to some other object. Our s 

5 



4S, Jl Grammar of Logic, book * 

tions are natural signs, and turn our attention to the things 
signified by them. In perception, memory, judgment, im- 
agination, and reasoning, there is an object distinct from 
the mind itself; and, while we are led by a strong impulse 
to attend to the object, the operation escapes our notice. 
Our passions, affections, and all our active powers, have, in 
like manner, their objects, which engross our attention, and 
divert it from the powers themselves. 

93. When the mind is agitated by any passion, as soon 
as we turn our attention from the object of the passion to 
the passion itself, the passion subsides or vanishes, and by 
that means escapes our inquiry. 

IJlus. Thus, when a man is angry, he is conscious of his passion, 
yet he attends not to it, but to an external object; his attention is 
turned to the person who offended him, and the circumstances of the 
offence, while the passion of anger is not in the least the object of 
his attention. This, indeed, is common to almost every operation of 
the mind. When it is exerted, we are conscious of it ; but then 
we do not attend to the operation, but to its object. Whe» the 
mind is draAvn off from the object, to attend to its own operation,, 
that operation ceases, and escapes our notice. 

94. In what relates to the operations of the mind, it is 
not enough that we be able to give attention to them, we 
must, by exercise and habit, acquire the ability of distin- 
guishing accurately their minute differences, of resolving 
and analysing complex operations into their simple ingredi- 
ents, of unfolding the ambiguity of words, which in this 
science is greater than in any other, and of giving them the 
accuracy and precision of mathematical language. For, 
doubtless, the same precision in the use of words ; the same 
cool attention to the minute differences of things ; the same 
:alentfor abstraction and analysing, which fit one for the 
study of mathematics, are no less necessary in the science 
of mind, 



CHAPTER VII. 

DIVISION OF THE POWERS OF THE MIND. 

95. The powers of the human mind, and the science of 
intellectual philosophy, furnish the proper basis upon which 
every other science rests, because the human faculties are 



chap. vii. Division of the Powers of the Mind. 43 

the instruments by which alone invention in all the sciences 
can be accomplished. But the powers of the human mind 
are so many and so various, and so connected and compli- 
cated, in almost all its operations, that the most general 
division, which is also the most common of them, into the 
powers of understanding, and those of the ivill, is perhaps 
the least liable to objection. 

96. The understanding comprehends our contempla- 
tive powers, by which we perceive objects, by which we 
conceive or remember them, by which we analyse or com- 
pound them, and by which we judge and reason concerning 
them. Under the will we arrange our active powers, and 
all that lead to action, or influence the mind to act; such as 
appetites, passions, affections. 

Illus. 1. Although this general division may be of use in order to 
our proceeding more methodically in our subject, we are not to 
understand that, in those operations which are ascribed to the un- 
derstanding, there is no exertion of will, or activity, or that the un- 
derstanding is not employed in the operations of the will ; for we 
conceive that there is no operation of the understanding wherein 
the mind is not also active in some degree. 

2. We have some command over our thoughts, and can attend to 
this or to that, of many objects which present themselves to oiu 
senses, to our memory, to our imagination. We can survey an ob- 
ject on this side or that, superficially or accurately, for a longer 
or a shorter time ; so that our contemplative powers are under the 
guidance and direction of the active ; and the former never pursue 
their object without being led and directed, urged or restrained, by 
the latter. And because the understanding is always more or less 
directed by the will, mankind have ascribed some degree of activity 
to the mind in its intellectual operations, as well as in those which 
belong to the will, and have expressed them by active verbs, such 
as seeing, hearing, judging, reasoning, and the like. 

3. And as the mind exerts some degree of activity even in the op- 
erations of understanding, so it is certain, that there can be no act 
of will which is not accompanied with some act of understanding'. 
The will must have an object, and that object must be apprehended 
or conceived in the understanding. 

Corol. It is therefore to be remembered, that in most, if not all 
operations of the mind, both faculties concur ; and we range the op- 
eration under that faculty which we conceive to have the largest 
share in it. 

97. In conducting our analysis of the intellectual powers, 
it is proposed to adopt the following arrangement : 

I. To treat of consciousness, or that faculty or mode of 
thinking, by which the various powers of our minds are 
make known to us. 

IT. Sensation, or the faculfv whereby we experience 



44 A Grammar of Lo gib. book i. 

pleasing or painful effects from various objects, through the 
medium of the senses. 

III. Perception, or the faculty by which we are infor- 
med of the properties of external objects, in consequence of 
the impressions which they make on the organs of sense. 

IV. Attention, or the faculty which detains, for our ex- 
amination, ideas or perceptions in the mind, and excludes 
other objects that solicit its notice. 

V. Conception, or the faculty by which we represent to 
our minds the objects of any other of our faculties variously 
modified. 

VI. Abstraction, or the faculty by which we analyse 
objects of consciousness, sensation, perception, &c. and 
contemplate their various properties apart from each other. 

VII. Association, or combination of ideas, the faculty 
by which we connect together these objects, according to va- 
rious relations, essential or accidental, so that they are sug- 
gested to us, the one by the other. 

VIII. Memory, or the faculty by which the mind has a 
knowledge of what it had formerly perceived, felt, or 
thought. 

IX. Imagination, or the faculty which makes a selection 
of qualities and circumstances from a variety of different 
objects, and by combining and disposing these, forms new 
creations of its own. 

X. Judgment, or the faculty by which the mind comes 
to determinations concerning the truth or falsehood of any 
thing that is affirmed or denied. 

XI. Reason, or the faculty by which we are made ac- 
quainted with abstract or necessary truth ; and enabled to 
discover the essential relations of things. 

XII. Moral perception, or the faculty which deter- 
mines the choice of a rational being, as to what is good fo: 
him upon the whole, and what appears to be duty. 



OF THE INTELLECTUAL POWER?. 
CHAPTER I. 

OF CONSCIOUSNESS. 

98. Consciousness being the faculty whereby the variou? 
powers of our own minds are made known to us, has been 
already noticed among the first principles which are com 
mon to all men, (Art. 48J. In an investigation of the prin- 
ciples of human thought, this faculty stands in the first rank. 

Illus. The power of consciousness appears to be denied to the 
lower animals ; nor does it shew itself in man till he is advanced to- 
wards maturity. The wants and purposes of life require that we 
should form an intimate acquaintance with those objects of nature 
with which we are externally connected, and which are the chief 
sources of our pleasures and pains. Hence our senses, or percep- 
tive powers, come first to maturity ; and those which are purely in- 
tellectual, such as consciousness, are reserved for the more contem- 
plative period of fife. 

99. To the exercise of consciousness, as we have already 
observed, all men are indebted for the conviction, or notion, 
of personal identity. 

Illus. Every man holds himself to be absolutely certain, that what- 
ever changes his body may undergo' in this life, his soul, or mind, al- 
ways continues one and the same ; not liable to that alteration and 
disunion of parts to which all corporeal beings appear to be subject. 
Along with consciousness, however, we must conjoin memory, in or- 
der to give a rational explanation of the origin of this conviction. 
For consciousness reaches only to the present, while memory a- 
lone gives a knowledge of past thoughts ; and it is by comparing 
our past and present mental operations together, that we form a 
conviction of our personal, or rather, intellectual identity. 

Corol. 1 . The mind or soul of man being indivisible, or not subject 
to a dissolution of parts, and annihilation being unknown in the order 
of nature, it follows, that the soul is physically immortal. 

2. The properties of mind having no analogy to those of matter, 
the fact at death is, that the body ceases to be animated, or to give 
signs of the presence of mind ; but the mind being active, indivisible., 
and indissoluble; may exist apart. 

5* 



46 A Grammar of Logic. book ti* 

3. Hence, every question relating to a future state must be solved 
from the nature of the soul, from the state of the fact at death, or 
from the principles of religion. 

100. The operation of consciousness is accompanied with 
an irresistible belief of the real existence of those objects of 
which it gives us information. 

Elus. The belief which we entertain i» the existence of our own 
minds, and of their various faculties, rests upon this evidence alone ; 
and it is by means of it, that we acquire our most accurate know- 
ledge of the laws by which these faculties are regulated. Nor can 
the belief accompanying consciousness be resolved into any process 
of reasoning, or any other intellectual operation ; for if we are ask- 
ed, Why we believe that we have a soul, and that soul has faculties 
or active powers, which may all be exerted together, or in the least 
measurable portion of time ? we shall be unable to give any better 
reason, than that we. feel such to be the case ; that is, in more accu- 
rate language, that we are conscious of it. 

101. No man can divine the mysterious union of soul 
and body, but every man feels that his mind is present, in a 
particular manner, to whatever affects his senses ; and, in 
other instances, that it is equally present to the most re- 
mote, as to the nearest object of thought. 

Corol. Thus we may consider the evidence of consciousness as ohe 
of those intuitive truths most universally admitted. 



CHAPTER II. 

OF SENSATION. 

102. Sensation has been defined the faculty by which 
we experience pleasing or painful effects from various ob- 
jects, through the medium of the senses. 

Obs. The senses come to maturity even in infancy, when other 
powers have not yet sprung up. They are common to us with brute 
animals, and furnish us with the objects about which our other pow- 
ers are most frequently employed. We find it easy to attend to 
their operations ; and because they are familiar, the names which 
properly belong to them, are applied to other powers that are 
thought to resemble them ; for these reasons they claim our atten- 
tion in an analysis of the faculty of sensation, which naturally de- 
mands to be first considered among the objects of our conscious- 
ness. 

103. The media by which all sensation is communicated 
to the mind, are the five senses of seeing, smelling, tasting, 
hearing, and touch. 



chap. ii. Of Sensation. 47 

104. Of these senses, sight is, without doubt, the noblest. 
The variety of information and of enjoyment that we receive 
by it, the rapidity with which this information and enjoy- 
ment are conveyed to us ; and, above all, the intercourse 
which it enables us to maintain with the more distant parts 
of the universe, as for example, with the planets and their 
satellites, cannot fail to give it, even in the apprehension of 
the most careless observer, a pre-eminence over all our 
other perceptive faculties. 

105. The sense of smelling informs us of certain qual- 
ities or virtues in bodies, which we call their smell ; and 
we shall therefore consider the term smell as signifying a 
sensation, a feeling, or an impression upon the mind ; and 
which can only be in a mind, or sentient being. 

Jllus. 1. The sensation produced by this sense can have no exis- 
tence but when something 1 that emits an odour is smelled. It there- 
fore appears to be a simple and original affection or feeling of the 
mind, altogether inexplicable and unaccountable. It is indeed im- 
possible that it can be body, nor can we ascribe to it figure, colour, 
extension, or any other quality of a body : it is a sensation, and a 
sensation can only be in a sentient being. 

2. The various odours have each their different degrees of strength 
and weakness. Most of them are agreeable or disagreeable ; and 
frequently those that are agreeable when weak, are disagreeable 
when stronger. We can compare different smells together; we 
can perceive very few resemblances or contrarieties, or indeed re- 
lations of any kind between them. They are all simple in them- 
selves, and so different from each other, that it is hardly possible 
to divide them into genera and species. Most of the names that we 
give them are particular; as, the smell of a. jessamine, of a rose, 
and the like. Yet there are some general names ; as sweet, stink- 
ing, musty, putrid, cadaverous, aromatic. Some of them seem to 
refresh and animate the mind, others to deaden and depress it. 

3. But the power, quality, or virtue, in the rose, or in the efflu- 
via proceeding from it, hath a permanent existence, independent 
of the mind, and which by the constitution of our nature produces 
the sensation in us. By the original constitution of our nature, we 
are both led to believe, that there is a permanent cause of the sen- 
sation, and, prompted to seek after it, experience determines us to 
place it in the rose. 

106. The relation which the sensation of smell bears to 
the memory and imagination of it, and to a mind or subject, 
is common to all our sensations, and indeed to all the op- 
erations of the mind : the relation it bears to the will, is 
common to it with all the powers of the understanding: 
and the relation it bears to that quality or virtue of bodies 
which it indicates, is common to it with the sensations of 



48 Ji Grammar of Logic, book n 

taste, hearing, colour, heat, cold : so that what hath been 
said of this sense, may easily be .applied to several of our 
senses, and other operations of the mind. 

Obs. 1. But in what manner the organs of our corporeal frame 
contribute to excite the various sensations winch we are capable of 
experiencing', or how the communication between material objects 
and our immaterial thinking principle, is earned on, are questions 
which have hitherto eluded the ingenuity of inquisitive men. 

2. Anatomists have carefully analysed the various organs of sense, 
as well as the structure of the nerves and brain ; and are able to 
shew us that, in all the senses, the peculiar impressions seem to be 
communicated to the nerves ; and as all the nerves terminate in 
the brain, the impressions are, probably, conveyed thither finally. 
Here all our inquiries must terminate, (bee Illus. Art. 67. and Illus, 
Art. 70.) 

107. When sensation is excited in the mind, it is gen 
erally in consequence of some impression first made upon 
the corporeal senses. But, in some instances, the cause ori- 
ginates in the mind, (as is evident from the thrilling sensa- 
tion which accompanies certain affections of mind,) and is 
thence communicated to the bodily organs, while apparent- 
ly an effect is produced precisely similar to that of the more 
usual kind of sensation. 

Illus. It is well known, that the mere thought of pain, in any par- 
ticular part of the body, is sufficient to excite the corresponding 
sensation in a certain degree. Thus, the idea of sore eyes produces 
a certain degree of pain in those organs ; and the strong imagination 
of any particular taste or flavour, is accompanied with a slight sen- 
sation of that taste or flavour. . 

108. We have already noticed the difference between 
sensation and perception (Art. 42) ; and it is obvious, that 
to speak intelligibly and scientifically, we should say, " the 
sensation of hunger, of fear, of joy," and "the perception 
of extension, figure, magnitude," and the like. 

109. Many affections of the mind are accompanied with 
strong sensations, either pleasant or painful. 

Illus. 1. Anger, terror, envy, revenge, and all the malevolent 
passions, have a very powerful effect upon the bodily frame, and 
excite sensations which are of a very disagreeable kind. Upon the 
other hand, joy, admiration, love, and all the amiable emotions, pro- 
duce sensations which are decidedly pleasurable. 

2. Such sensations are frequently, in common language, called 
feelings ; a name, however, which more properly belongs to the 
pleasurable effect of our benevolent affections, and moral judg- 
ments, as well as to the pleasure accompanying our approbation in 
matters -of taste. ('Obs. Art. 42.) 



chap. ii. Of Sensation. 49 

110. These feelings appear to be almost purely of an in- 
tellectual nature ; while the term sensation, as we wish to 
limit it, includes a distinct affection of the body, as well as 
of the mind. 

Illus. Thus, the sensation produced by the smell of a rose is a 
certain affection or feeling of the mind. What is the smell of the 
rose ? It is a quality or virtue of the rose, of something proceeding 
from it, which we perceive by the sense of smelling 1 ; and this is all 
Ave know of the matter. But what is smelling .? It is an act of the 
mind, but is never imagined to be a quality of the mind. ( Illus. 
Art. 39.) 

Corol. Therefore smell in the rose, and the sensation caused by 
it, are not conceived to be things of the same kind, although they 
have the same name. 

111. According to the views now brought forward and 
illustrated, our sensations may be divided into those which 
arise from the operation of material objects upon the five 
senses ; those which accompany our appetites, as hunger, 
thirst, and the like ; and those which arise from the action 
of the passions, and stronger emotions. 

Obs. These last are by far the most numerous of the three kinds ; but 
so little attention is paid to them, that they have no names, and are 
immediately forgotten, as if they had never been ; so that it requires 
a considerable degree of attention to the operations of our minds, 
to be convinced of their existence. (See Illus. Art. 93.) 

112. The Author of Nature, in the distribution of agree- 
able and painful feelings, hath wisely and benevolently 
consulted the good of the human species, and hath even 
shewn us, by the same means, what tenor of conduct we 
ought to hold. 

Illus. For, first, the painful sensations of the animal kind, are ad- 
monitions to avoid what would hurt us ; and the agreeable sensations 
of the same kind, invite us to those actions that are necessary to the 
preservation of the individual or of the species. 

Secondly. By the same means nature invites us to moderate our 
bodily exercise, and admonishes us to avoid idleness and inactivity 
on the one hand, and excessive labour and fatigue on the other. 

Thirdly. The moderate exercise of all our rational powers gives 
pleasure. 

Fourthly. Every species of beauty is beheld with pleasure, and 
every species of deformity with disgust; and we shall find all that 
we call beautiful, to be something estimable or useful in itself, or a 
sign of something that is estimable or useful. 

Fifthly. The benevolent affections are all accompanied with an 
agreeable feeling, the malevolent with the contrary. 

And, Sixthly. The highest, the noblest, and most durable plea- 
sure, is that of doing well, and acting the part that becomes us ; and 
the most bitter and painful sensation, the anguish and remorse of a 
guilty conscience. 



50 A Grammar of Logic. book ir. 

Note. The faculty of sensation receives additional illustration in 
Chapter 1st, Book III. under the investigation of the "primary and 
secojulary qualities of bodies." 



CHAPTER III. 

OF PERCEPTION. 

113. Perception we explained to be the faculty by 
which we are informed of the properties of external objects, 
In consequence of the impressions which they make on the 
organs of sense ; and the distinction between it and concep- 
tion, consciousness, remembrance, and sensation, was suf- 
ficiently illustrated under Articles 22, 23, and 24. 

Obs. The corporeal organs of sense are subservient to the opera- 
tion of the faculty of perception, as well as of sensation, which gene- 
rally accompanies it. Yet it is not unreasonable to suppose, that 
these organs rather limit and circumscribe this intellectual faculty, 
than that they are essential to its operation; and that beings of a 
superior order, uncircumscribed by bodily organs like ours, may 
enjoy perception in a much more perfect degree than we do. A 
person who had been all his life shut up in a chamber with a single 
window, would naturally conceive that window to be essential to 
his sight, instead of being - the cause of his very limited view. (See 
Obs. 3. Art. 6.) 

1 14. When we attend to that act of our mind which we 
call the perception of an external object, we shall find in it 
these three things : 

First. Some conception or notion of the object perceived, 
(Illus. 1. Art. 22.) 

Secondly. A strong and irresistible conviction and belief 
of its present existence, (Illus. 2. Art. 22.) 

Thirdly. That this conviction and belief are immediate, 
and not the effect of reasoning, (Illus. 3. Art. 22.) 

115. First. It is impossible to perceive an object with- 
out some notion or conception of that which we perceive. 
We may indeed conceive an object which we do not per- 
ceive ; but when we perceive the object we must, at the 
same time, have, some conception of it .: and we have com- 
monly a more clear and steady notion of the object while 
we perceive it, than we have from memory or imagination, 
when it is not perceived. Yet, even in perception, the no- 
tion which our senses give of the object may be more or 
less clear, more or less distinct, in all possible degrees. 



liiap. in. Of Perception 5\ 

Illvs. Thus, we see more distinctly an object at a small than at a 
great distance. The satellites of Jupiter are invisible to the naked 
t-ye, but we discern them by means of a telescope. An object at a 
great distance is seen more distinctly in a clear than in a foggy day. 
An object seen indistinctly with the naked eye, on account of its 
smallness, may be seen distinctly with a microscope. The objects 
in this room will be seen, by a person in the room, less and less dis- 
tinctly as the light of the day fails; — they pass through all the 
various degrees of distinctness according to the degrees of the light, 
ind at last, in total darkness, they are not seen at all. What has 
been said of the objects of sight, is so easily applied to the objects 
of the other senses, that the application may be left ta the reader. 

116. Secondly. In perception we not only have a notion 
more or less distinct of the object perceived, but also an ir- 
resistible conviction and belief of its existence. This is al- 
ways the case when we are certain that we perceive it. 
There may be a perception so faint and indistinct, as to 
leave as in doubt of its reality. 

Illus. 1. Thus, when a star begins to twinkle, as the light of the 
sun withdraws, one may, for a short time, think he sees it, without 
being certain, until the perception acquires some strength and 
steadiness. When a ship just begins to appear in the utmost verge 
of the horizon, we may at first be dubious whether we perceive it 
or not. But when the perception is in any degree clear and steady, 
there remains no doubt of its reality ; and when the reality of the 
perception is ascertained, the existence of the object perceived can 
no longer be doubted. 

2. By the laws of all nations, in the most solemn judicial trials, 
wherein men's fortunes and lives are at stake, the sentence passes 
according to the testimony of eye and ear witnesses of good credit. 
An upright judge will give a fair hearing to every objection that can 
be made to the integrity of a witness, and allow it to be possible thai 
he may be corrupted ; but n© judge will ever suppose that witness- 
ea may be imposed upon by trusting to their eyes and ears. And 
if a sceptical counsel should plead against the testimony of the wit- 
nesses, that they had no other evidence for what they declared but 
the testimony of their eyes and ears, and that the jury ought not to 
put so much faith in the witnesses senses, as to deprive a man of life 
and fortune upon the testimony of the witnesses eyes and ears, the 
judge would reject such a plea with disdain, and, by men of common 
sense, the counsel would be classed among lunatics and hypochon- 
driacal persons. fObs. 1 and 2. Jri. 63.) 

117. The whole conduct of mankind in the daily occur- 
rences of life, as well as in the solemn procedure of judicato- 
ries in the trial of causes, civil and criminal, demonstrates 
that the evidence of sense is a kind of evidence which we 
may securely rest upon, and against which we ought not to 
admit any reasoning ; for, being perfectly conclusive and 
unanswerable, to reason either for or agaiast it, is an insult to 



52 A Grammar of Logic. book ii. 

common sense. (See Obs. and Corol. Art. 60; and Obs. 
and Corol Art. 61.) 

118. Thirdly. This conviction is not only irresistible, 
but it is immediate ; that is, it is not by a train of reason- 
ing and argumentation that we come to be convinced of the 
existence of what we perceive: -we ask no argument for the 
existence of the object but that we perceive it ; — perception 
commands our belief upon its own authority, and disdains 
to rest that authority upon any reasoning whatsoever. 

119. The conviction of a truth may be irresistible, and 
yet not immediate. 

Illus. 1. Thus, my conviction that the three angles of every plain 
triangle are equal to two rig-ht angles, is irresistible, but it is not 
immediate. I am convinced of it by demonstrative reasoning. 

2. Our belief of the axioms in Euclid is not grounded upon argu- 
ment, for these truths carry with them not only an irresistible, but 
an immediate conviction. Arguments are not grounded upon 
them, but their evidence is discerned immediately by the human 
understanding. (See Art. 44. and its Illus.) 

120. It is, no doubt, one thing to have an immediate 
conviction of a self-evident axiom ; it is another thing to 
have an immediate conviction of what we see ; but the con- 
viction is equally immediate and irresistible in both cases. 
(See Illus. 1 and 2. Art. 52.) 

Illus. No man thinks of seeking a reason to believe what he sees ; 
and, before we are capable of reasoning, we put no less confidence 
in our senses than after. The rudest savage is as fully convinced 
of what he sees, and hears, and feels, as the most expert logician ; 
both are alike incapable of giving any better reason for this belief, 
than the original constitution of their nature. 

Corol. The constitution of our understanding determines us to 
hold the truth of a mathematical axiom as a first principle, from 
which other truths may be deduced, but it is deduced from none ; 
and the constitution of our power of perception determines us to 
hold the existence of what we distinctly perceive as a first princi- 
ple, from which other truths may be deduced, but it is deduced 
from none. 

121. The account which we have given of the faculty of 
perception, amounts to this : that the mind is so formed, 
that certain impressions produced on our organs of sense by 
external objects, are followed by corresponding sensations : 
and that these sensations, which have no more resemblance 
to the qualities of matter, than the words of a language 
have to the things they denote, are followed by a percep- 
tion of the existence and qualities of the bodies by which 
the impressions are made ; that all the steps in this process 



chap. iv« Of Attention. 53 

are equally incomprehensible ; and that, lor any thing we 
know to the contrary, the connection between the sensation 
and perception, as well as between the impression and the 
sensation, may be both arbitrary ; that it is, therefore, by 
no means impossible, that our sensations may be merely 
the occasions on which perceptions are excited ; and that, 
at any rate, the consideration of these sensations, which 
are attributes of mind, can throw no light on the manner in 
which we acquire our knowledge of the existence and qual- 
ities of bodies. (Stewart's Philosophy of the Human 
Mind.) V 1 J * 

Corol. From this view of the subject, it follows, that it is the ex- 
ternal objects themselves, and not any species or images of these 
objects that the mind perceives; and that, although, by the consti- 
tution of our nature, certain sensations are rendered the constant 
antecedents of our perceptions, yet it is just as difficult to explain 
how our perceptions are obtained by this means, as it would Le 
upon the supposition that the mind were all at once inspired with 
them, without any concomitant sensations "whatever. The infor- 
mation of the senses is as perfect, and gives as full conviction to the 
most ignorant, as to the most learned ; and the conviction we have 
of their reality rests upon consciousness, a faculty that puts the 
poorest of mankind upon a level with the greatest. (See Art. 69. Ot>n.) 



CHAPTER IV. 

OF ATTENTION. 

122. Attention is the faculty which detains, for our ex- 
amination, ideas or perceptions in the mind, and excludes 
other objects that solicit its notice. 

Ilhis. When we are deeply engaged in conversation, crocrupied 
with any speculation that is interesting to the mind, the surround- 
ing objects do not produce in us the perceptions they are fitted to 
excite ; or those perceptions are instantly forgotten. Thus, a 
clock may strike in the same room with us, without our being 
able the next moment to recollect whether we heard it or not. 

lv.3. In these, and similar cases, it is commonly taken 
for granted, that we really do not perceive the external ob- 
ject But analogous facts may serve to prove that this 
opinion is not well founded. 

Ilhes. 1. Thus, a person who falls asleep at church, and is sud- 
denly awaked, is unable to recollect the last words spoken by the 
preacher, or even to recollect that he was speaking 1 . And yet, that 

6 



54 A Grammar of Logic. book n, 

.deep does not suspend entirely the powers of perception may be 
inferred from this, that, if the preacher were to make a sudden 
pause in his discourse, every person who was asleep in the congre- 
gation would instantly awake. 

Corel. In this case, therefore, it appears, that a person may be 
conscious of a perception, without being" able afterwards to recol- 
lect it. 

Ilhis. 2. When we read a book, especially in a language that is 
not perfectly familiar to us, we must perceive successively every 
different letter, and must afterwards combine these letters into 
syllables and words, before we comprehend the meaning of a sen- 
tence. This process, however, passes through the mind without 
leaving any trace in the memory. 

3. It has been proved, by optical writers, that in- perceiving the 
distances of visible objects from the eye, there is a judgment of the 
understanding antecedent to perception. In some cases this judg- 
ment is founded on a variety of circumstances combined together — 
the conformation of the organs necessary for distinct vision — the in- 
clination cf the cptic axes — the distinctness or indistinctness of the 
minute parts of the object — the distances of the intervening objects 
from each other and from the eye — and, perhaps, on other circum- 
stances besides these ; — and yet, in consequence of our familiarity 
with such processes from our earliest infancy, the perception seems 
to be instantaneous. 

4. As a further illustration, we shall produce another instance of 
a nature still more familiar. It is well known, (says Mr. Stuart, to 
whom, for authority's sake, I attribute the materials of which this 
chapter is composed,) that our thoughts do not succeed each other 
at random, but according to certain laws of association, which 
:nodern philosophers have been at pains to investigate. It fre- 
quently happens, particularly when the mind is animated by con- 
versation, that it makes a sudden transition from one subject to 
another, which, at first view, appears to be very remote from it ; 
and that it requires a considerable degree of reflection, to enable 
the person himself, by whom the transition was made, to ascertain 
what were the intermediate ideas. A curious instance of such sud- 
den transition is mentioned by Hobbs, in his Leviathan : " In a 
company, (sa} r s he) in which the conversation turned on the civil 
war, what could be conceived more impertinent, than for a person 

i. ask abruptly, What was the value of a Roman denarius? On a 
little reflection, however, I was easily able to trace the train of 

i night which suggested the question; for the original subject of 
discourse naturally introduced the history of the king, and the 
treachery of those who surrendered his person to Ids enemies; this 
again introduced the treachery of Judas Iscariot, and the sum of 
money which he received for his reward. And all this train of 
ideas passed through the mind of the speaker in a twinkling, in 
consequence of the velocity of thought." Upon this anecdote Mr. 
Stewart observes veiy justly, " It is by no means improbable, that 
if the speaker himself had been interrogated about the connection 
of ideas, which led him aside from the original topic of discourse, 
he 'could have found himself, at first, at a loss for an answer. 1 ' 



• ,-iiap. iv- Of Mention. 55 

CoroL The three last illustrations furnish vis with proof that a 
perception or an idea, which passes through the mind, may ye1 
serve to introduce other ideas connected with it by the laws of as- 
sociation. 

124. When a perception or idea passes through tin- 
mind, without our being able to recollect it the next moment, 
persona the most illiterate ascribe their want of memory 
to a want of attention. 

Illus. Thus, in the instance already mentioned of the clock, 
CJllus. Art. 122.) a person, upon observing that the minute hand 
had just passed twelve, would naturally say, that he did not attend 
to the clock when it was striking. 

Corol. There seems, therefore, to be a certain effort of mind upon 
which, even in the judgment of those who make no pretensions to 
philosophy, memory in some measure depends ; and this effort they 
distinguish by the name of attention. 

125. The memory depends much on the degree of atten- 
tion which we give it ; and it seems essential to memory, 
that the perception or the idea which we would wish to 
remember, should remain in the mind for a certain space of 
time, and should be contemplated by it exclusively of 
every thing else ; and that attention consists partly (per- 
haps entirely) in the effort of the mind, to detain the idea 
or perception, and to exclude the other objects that solicit 
its notice. And though there may be some difficulty of 
ascertaining in what this act of the mind consists, every 
person must be satisfied of its reality from his own con- 
sciousness, and of its essential connection with the power 
of memory. 

Qb$. The several instances which have already been mentioned, 
of ideas passing through the mind without our being able to recol- 
lect them the next moment, were produced merely to illustrate the 
meaning which we annex to the word attention, and to recal to the 
recollection of the student, a few striking cases, in which the pos- 
sibility of carrying on a process of thought, which we are unable to 
attend to at the time, or to remember afterwards, is acknowledged 
in the received systems of philosophy. 

126. Among the phenomena which appear to be very si- 
milar to those we have introduced, illustrative of the facul- 
ty of attention, and which are explicable in the same man- 
ner, may be classed the wonderful effect of practice in the 
formation of habits — one of the most curious circumstance?. 
in the human constitution. 

Illus. A mechanical operation, for example, which we at first; 
performed with the utmost difficulty, comes, in time, to be so 
Familiar to us, that we are able to perform it without the sm 



5G 



Jl Grammar of Logic. 



danger of mistake ; even while the attention appears to be com- 
pletely engaged with other subjects. The truth seems to be, that 
in consequence of the association of ideas, the different steps of 
the process present themselves successively to our thoughts, with- 
out any recollection on our part, and with a degree of rapidity 
proportioned to the length of our experience ; so as to save us 
entirely the trouble of hesitation and reflection, by giving us every 
moment a precise and steady notion of the effect to be produced. 

127. In the case of some operations which are very fa- 
miliar to US; We find ourselves unable to attend to the acts 
of the will by which they were preceded, or even to recol- 
lect those acts ; but the circumstance of our inability to re- 
collect our volitions, does not authorize us to dispute their 
possibility, any more than our inability to attend to the 
process of the mind, in estimating the distance of an object 
from the eye, authorizes us to affirm that the perception is 
instantaneous. 

128. Habit differs from instinct, not in its nature, but in 
its origin ; the last being natural, the first acquired. Both, 
appear to operate without will or intention, without thought* 
and have therefore been called mechanical principles. 

J/lus. Thus, suppose a person who has a perfectly voluntary com- 
mand over his fingers to begin to learn to play on the harpsichord. 
The first step is to move his fingers from one key to another, with 
a slow motion, looking at the notes, and exerting* an express act of 
volition in every motion. By degrees the motions cling to one 
another, and to the impressions of the notes, in the way of associa- 
tion, the acts of volition growing less and less express all the time, 
till at last they become evanescent aud imperceptible. For an 
expert performer will play from notes, or notions of notes laid up 
in the memory ; and at the same time carry on a train of thoughts in 
his mind quite different from the piece of music which he is play- 
ing, or even hold a conversation with another. Here, it appears, 
that those operations which have become habitual from long prac- 
tice, preclude the possibility of recollecting every different voli- 
tion of the mind, yet it is not to be doubted that there is an act of 
the will preceding every motion of each finger, since the most 
rapid performer can, when he pleases, play so slowly, as to be 
able to attend to every separate act of his will in the various move- 
ments of his fingers, and even to recollect those volitions after- 
wards ; and he can gradually accelerate the rate of his execution, 
till he is unable to recollect these acts. 

Coral. The operations in these two cases appear to be earned 
on precisely in the same manner, and differ only in the degree of 
rapidity ; and when this rapidity exceeds a certain rate, the acts of 
the will are too momentary to leave any impression on the 
memory. 

129. The corollary just drawn from this second illustra- 



. iv. Oj Attention. 

tion, is supported by the analogy of many other tacts in 
our constitution. 

ilhis, 1. Thus, an expert accountant can sum up almost at a 
single glance of his eye, a long 1 column of figures ; nay, of far- 
things, pence, shillings, and pounds, at one and the same time ; — 
ne can tell the sum with unerring certainty, while, at the same 
- ime, he is unable to recollect any one of the figures of which that 
bum is composed : and yet nobody doubts that each of these fig- 
ures has passed through his mind, or supposes that when the ra- 
pidity of the process becomes so great that he is unable to recol- 
lect the various steps of it, he obtains the result by a sort of 
inspir 

2. It has been found, by actual trial, that it is possible to pro- 
nounce about two thousand letters in a minute, and though the 
inconceivable rapidity with which our intellectual operations pro- 
ceed, render it impossible to discriminate the volitions of our 
mind, the articulation of every letter, in reading aloud, must be 
preceded by a separate volition. Here, then, we have evidence 
that the mind is so formed as to be able to cany on certain intel- 
lectual processes, in intervals of time too short to be estimated by 
our faculties ; yet, were our powers of attention suid memory more 
perfect than they are. so as to give us the same advantage in exa- 
mining rapid events, which the microscope gives us for examin- 
ing - minute portions of extension, they would enlarge our views v, ith 
respect to the intellectual world, no less than that instrument has 
with respect to the material. 

130, As the great use of attention and memory is to en- 
able us to treasure up the results of our experience and re 
flection for the future regulation of our conduct, it would 
have answered no purpose for the author of our nature to 
have extended their province to those intervals of time, 
which we have no occasion to estimate in the common bu- 
siness of life. All the intellectual processes which have 
iieen mentioned, are subservient to some particular end, 
either of perception or of action ; and it would have been 
perfectly superfluous, if, after this end were gained, the 
steps which are instrumental in bringing it a! re all 
treasured up in the memory: such a constitution of our 
nature would have had no" other effect but to store the 
mind with a variety of useless particulars. 

131. In confirmation of these reasonings on the [acuity 
of attention, the following illustration affords a more palpa- 
ble instance than any that we have yet mentioned, of the 
rapidity with which the thoughts may be trained up by 
practice, to shift from one thing to another. 

Illus. 1. When an equilibrist balances a rod upon his finger, not 
only the attention of his mind, but the observation of his ej e, is 



'^8 ,2 Grammar of Logic book, in- 

constantly requisite. It is evident that the part of his body which 
supports the object is never wholly at rest ; otherwise the object 
would not more stand upon it, than if placed in the same position 
upon a table. The equilibrist, therefore, must watch, in the very 
beginning, every inclination of the object from the proper position, 
in order to counteract this inclination by a contrary movement. In 
this manner the object has never time to fall in any one direction, 
and is supported in a way somewhat analogous to that in which a 
top is supported on a pivot, by being made to spin upon an axis. 

2. That a person should be able to do this in the case oT a single 
object, is curious ; but that he should be able to balance, in the same 
way, two, three, nay, half a dozen of objects, upon different parts of 
his body, and at the same time balance himself on a small cord or 
wire, is indeed wonderful. Nor is it possible to conceive, that in 
such an instance, the mind, at one and the same moment, attends to 
these equilibriums ; for it is not merely the attention which is requi- 
site, but the eye. We must therefore conclude, that both the 
attention and the eye are directed successively to the different 
equilibriums, but change from one object to another with such 
velocity, that the effect, with respect to the experiment, is the 
same as if they were directed to all the objects constantly. 

Carol. This last illustration affords direct evidence, as Mr. Stuart 
observes, of the possibility of our exerting acts of the will, which 
we are unable to recollect; for the movements of the equilibrist do 
not succeed each other in regular order, like those of the harpsi- 
chord player, in performing a piece of music ; but must, in every 
instance, be regulated by accidents, which may vary in numberless 
.l-espects, — and which indeed must vary in numberless respects every 
time he repeats the experiment; and, therefore, though in the case 
of the musician, we should suppose that the motions cling to one 
another and to the impressions of the notes, in the way of associa. 
i ion, without any intervention in the state of mind called -u'ill, yet, in 
this instance of the equilibrist, even the possibility of such a sup- 
position is directly contradicted by the fact which has been estab- 
lished. 

132. The faculty of attention is susceptible of much im- 
provement, as may be established from the well known 
fact, that a person who accidentally loses his sight, never 
tails to improve gradually in the sensibility of his touch. 

Ilius. Now there are only two ways of explaining this. The one 
is, that in consequence of the loss of the one sense, some change 
takes place in the physical constitution of the body, so as to improve 
a different organ of perception. The other is, that the mind gradu- 
ally acquires a power of attending to and remembering those slight- 
er sensations of which it was formerly conscious, but which, from 
habits of inattention, made no impression whatever on the memory. 
NTo one, surely, can hesitate for a moment, in pronouncing which of 
•these two suppositions is the more philosophical. 

133. Hitherto we have treated only of those habits in 
which both mind and body are concerned ; but there are 



•;hap. iv. Of J&tietiHoQ. •>•'.' 

phenomena purely intellectual, that are explicable on the 
same principles. 

Ilhis. 1 . Every person who has studied the elements of geometry, 
must have observed many cases in which the truth of a theorem 
struck him the moment he heard the enunciation ; yet he might 
not be able to state immediately to others upon what his conviction 
was founded; but there can be no doubt, but that before he gave 
his assent to the theorem, a process of thought passed through the 
mind, but passed so quickly, that he could not, without difficulty, 
arrest his ideas in their rapid succession, and state them to others 
in their proper and logical order. 

134. In politics, in morals, and in common life, many 
questions daily occur, in considering which, we almost in- 
stantaneously see where the truth lies, although we are not 
in a condition, all at once, to explain the grounds of our 
conviction. But even in those cases in which the truth 
of a proposition seems to strike us instantaneously, al- 
though we may not be able, at first, to discover the media of 
proof, we seldom fail in the discovery by perseverance. 
And nothing contributes so much to form this talent as 
that study which has the operations of the mind for its 
object ; for b} r habituating us to reflect on the subjects of 
our consciousness, it enables us to retard, in a considera- 
ble degree, the current of thought; to arrest many of those 
ideas which would otherwise escape our notice ; and to 
render the arguments which we employ for the conviction 
of others, an exact transcript of those trains of inquiry and 
reasoning, which originally led us to form our opinions. 

135. Men of business, who are under the necessity of 
thinking and deciding on the spur of the occasion, are led 
to cultivate, as much as possible, a quickness in their men- 
tal operations : and sometimes acquire it in so great a de- 
gree, that their judgments seem to be almost intuitive. A 
stock-jobber knows this. 

Obs. And the greatest generals, in new and untried difficulties, in 
the midst of battle, have, with a quickness that astonished all around 
them, decided upon movements no less hazardous than successful. 
Now long practice in the field might give them the power of carry- 
ing on certain intellectual processes concerning modes of attack 
and defence, but the reasonings by which their judgments were 
swayed, in those particular instances we have alluded to, consisted 
only of a few steps, which, as soon as the intellectual process was 
finished, vanished, perhaps for ever, entirely from the memory. 

13G. On the other hand, men of speculation, who have 
not merely to form opinions for themselves, but to commu- 
nicate them to others, find it necessarv to retard the train 



60 Jl Grammar of Logic. book n* 

of thought as it passes in the mind, so as to be able after- 
wards to recollect every different step of the process ; a 
habit which, in some cases, has such an influence on the in- 
tellectual powers, that there are men who, even m their 
private speculations, not only make use of words as an in- 
strument of thought, but form these words into regular 
sentences. 

137. When a train of thought leads to any interesting 
conclusion, or excites any pleasant feeling, it becomes pe- 
culiarly difficult to arrest our fleeting ideas, because the 
mind has little inclination to retrace the steps by which it 
arrived at the pleasure which it now feels. 

Obs. This is one great cause of the difficulty attending- philoso- 
phical criticism ; and exquisite sensibility, so far from being- useful 
in this species of criticism, both gives a disrelish for the study and 
disqualifies for pursuing it legitimately. 

138. There is a great variety of cases, in which the mind 
apparently excites different acts of attention at once ; but 
frOm the illustrations which we have given of the astonish- 
ing rapidity of thought, it is obvious, that those acts are not 
coexistent ; or, in other words, that we do not attend, at 
one and the same instant, to objects which we can attend 
to separately. 

Illus. 1. The case of the. equilibrist and rope-dancer affords 
direct evidence of the possibility of the mind's exerting different 
successive acts in an interval of time so short, as to produce the 
same sensible effect as if they had been exerted at one and the 
same moment. In this case, every movement of the eyes pre- 
cedes a thought of the mind, every thought a volition, every voli- 
tion a separate action of muscular force, but so rapidly does each 
of these succeed the other, that though they seem instantaneous, 
diey cannot be mathematically co-existent. 

2. In a concert of music, a good ear can attend to the different 
parts of the music separately, or can attend to them all at once, 
and feel the full effect of the harmony ; but the mind is constantly 
varying its attention from one part of the music to the other, and 
its operations are so rapid as to give us no perception of an inter- 
val of time. 

3. In viewing a picture, the mind at one and the same time 
perceives every point in the outline of the object (provided the 
whole be painted on the retina at one and the same instant,) for 
perception, like consciousness, is an involuntary operation ; but as 
no two points of the outline are in the same direction, every point, 
by itself, constitutes just as distinct an object of attention to the 
mind, as if it were separated by an interval of empty space from all 
the rest. As, therefore, it is impossible for the mind to attend to 
more than one of those points at once, and as the perception of the 



ohap. v. Of Conception. 61 

figure of the object implies a knowledge of the relative situation of 
the different points with respect to each other, we must conclude 
that the perception of the figure by the eye, is the result of a num- 
ber of different acts of attention. These acts of attention, however, 
are performed with such rapidity, that the effect, with respect to 
us, is the same as if the perception were instantaneous. 

Corol. 1. If the perception of visible figure were an immediate 
consequence of the picture on the retina, we should have at the 
first glance, as distinct an idea of a figure of a thousand sides, as of 
a triangle or a square ; for when the figure is very simple, the pro 
cess of the mind is so rapid, that the perception seems to be instan- 
taneous ; but when the sides are multiplied beyond a certain num- 
ber, the interval of time necessary for these different acts of atten- 
tion becomes perceptible. 

2. If these reasonings be admitted, it will follow, that without 
the faculty of memory, we could have no perception of visible 
figure. 



CHAPTER V. 

OF CONCEPTION. 

139. Conception is that faculty of the mind which en 
ables us to form a notion of an absent object of perception ; 
>>r of a sensation which it lias formerly felt. 

Jllus. When a painter paints a picture of a friend who is absent 
or dead, he is commonly said to paint from memory ; and the ex- 
pression is sufficiently correct for common conversation. But, in 
an analysis of the powers of the mind, there is ground for a distinc- 
tion between conception and the other powers, with some of which 
it is often confounded. The power of conception enables the pain- 
ter to make the features of his friend an object of thought, so as to 
copy the resemblance ; the power of memory recognizes these fea- 
tures as a former object of perception. Thus, conception is distin- 
guished from memory. Every act of memory includes an idea of 
the past ; conception implies no idea of time whatever. 
A'ote. Shakespeare calls this power the mi?i<Vs eye. 

Hamlet. My father ! Methinks I see my father. 

Horatio. Where, my lord ? 

Hamlet. In my mind's eye, Horatio. 

Hamlet, Act 1. Scene i. 

140. Conception corresponds, according to the view we 
have taken of it, to what the schoolmen call simple appre- 
hension ; with this difference only, that they include, un- 
der this name, our apprehension of general propositions ; 
Whereas the word conception is, in this volume, limited to 
our sensations and the objects of our perceptions. 



(SJ5 Ji Grammar of Logic. book ii 

libit. This distinction is warranted by the authority of philoso- 
phers in a case perfectly analogous. Thus, in ordinary language, 
we apply the same word perception, to the knowledge which we 
have by our senses of external objects, and to our knowledge of a 
speculative truth. And between the conception of a truth, and 
the conception of an absent object of sense, there is obviously as 
wide a difference, as between the perception of a tree, and the per- 
ception of a mathematical theorem. Conception, therefore, is that 
faculty whose province it is to enable i= to form a notion of our past 
sensations, or of the objects of sense tha t w. hu,ve formerly perceived. 

141. Conception is frequently used *s synonymous with 
imagination, but imagination is distinguish!*! from concep- 
tion as a part from a whole. 

P.lus. The business of conception is to present us with an exact 
transcript of what we have felt or perceived. But we have, more- 
over, a power of modifying our conceptions, by combining the 
parts of different conceptions together, so as to form new wholes 
of our own creation. This power, according to Mr. Stewart, is 
expressed by the word imagination ,■ and he apprehends, that this 
is the proper sense of the word ; if imagination be the power 
which gives birth to the productions of the poet and the painter. 
This is not a simple faculty of the mind, for it presupposes abstrac- 
tion, to separate from each other, qualities and circumstances 
which have been perceived in conjunction ; and also judgment 
and taste to direct us in forming the combinations. 

Obs. People, in common discourse, often use the phrase thinking 
'upon an object, to express what we have illustrated as the concep- 
tion of it. Shakespeare, whose talent for pilosophizing was equal 
to his imaginative powers as a poet, uses, in the following passage, 
the former of these phrases in the same sense as we should use 
conception, and the words imagination and apprehension as synony- 
mous with each other. 

Who can hold a fire in his hand 

By thinking on the frosty Caucasus? 

Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite, 

By bare imagination of a feast ? 

Or wallow naked in December's snow, 

J}y thinking on fantastic summer's heat ; 

Oh no ! the apprehension of the good 

Gives but the greater feeling to the worse. 

K. Richabd II. Act 1. Scene 6. 

142. We can conceive the objects of some senses much 
more easily than those of others. And, first, as to visible 
objects; we can conceive the structure of a building that is 
familiar to us, much more easily than a particular sound, a 
particular taste, or a particular pain which we have former- 
ly felt. 

Illus. The peculiarity in the case of visible objects seems to arise 
from this ; that when we think of a sound or of a taste, the objec - . 



OttAP. v. Of Conception, . o; 1 

of our conception is one single detached sensation ; whereas every 
visible object is complex ; and the conception that we form of it is 
aided by the association of ideas. We attend not, at one instant, t • 
every point of the picture of an object on the retina (~ Carol. 1. Art. 
138) ; nor at one instant, therefore, do we form a conception of the 
whole of any visible object ; but our conception of the object as a 
whole, is the result of many conceptions. The association of idea- 
connects the different parts together, and presents them to the 
mind in their proper arrangement ; and the various relations which 
these parts bear to one another in point of situation, contribute 
greatly to strengthen the associations. This illustration is confi" 
med by the fact, that it is more easy to remember a succession o 
sounds, than any particular sound which we have heard detacher 
and unconnected. The war hoop of the American Indians, the yell 
of Cossacks, the shout of victory, or any cry that alarmed or en- 
couraged us, may be considered a particular sound, but the con- 
ception of such a sound depends on the association of ideas. 

143. The power of conceiving visible objects, like other 
powers that depend on the association of ideas, may be 
greatly improved by habit. 

Mm. A person accustomed to drawing, retains a much more per- 
fect notion of a building or of a landscape, winch he has seen, than 
one who has never practised that art. A portrait painter traces the 
forms of the human body from memory with as little exertion as hi; 
employs in writing the letters which compose his name. 

144. Secondly. In the power of conceiving colours, too, 
there are striking differences among individuals; and pro 
bably, in the greater number of instances, the supposed de 
fects of sight, in this respect, ought rather to be ascribed to 
a defect in the power of conception, than in the organ of 
the perception of colour. 

Ulns. We often see two men who are perfectly sensible of tho 
difference between two colours when they are presented to them, 
who cannot give names to these colours with confidence, when 
they see them apart ; and are perhaps apt to confound the one with 
the other. They feel the sensation of colour like other men, it 
should seem, when the object is present, but are incapable, probi 
bly in consequence of some early habit of inattention, to conceive 
the sensation distinctly when the object is removed. Without tTii-> 
power of conception, Mr. Stewart thinks, that it is evidently impos- 
sible for them, how lively soever their sensations may be, to give a 
name to any colour; for the application of the name supposes not 
only a capacity of receiving the sensation, but a power of corap.i 
ring it with one formerly felt. In some cases, perhaps, the sensa- 
tion is not felt at all; and in others, the faintness of the sensatic i 
may be one cause of those habits of inattention, from which the in- 
capacity of conception has arisen. 

145. Thirdly. A talent for lively description, at least in 
the case of sensible objects, depends chiefly on the deg" 



64 , A Grammar of Logic. 

in which the describer posseses the power of conception. 
Nor is it merely to the accuracy of our description, in com- 
mon conversation, that this power is subservient ; it contri- 
butes more than any thing else to render them striking and 
expressive to others, by guiding us to a selection of such 
circumstances as are most prominent and characteristical. 

Obs. The best rule for descriptive composition, is, to attend to 
those rules which make the deepest impression on our own minds. 
Now these particulars are in general the outline ; and it is the pro- 
vince of conception to neglect a minute specification of particulars, 
and to select only such as struck us most at the moment the object 
we are describing from recollection was present to our view. A 
person may therefore write a happier description of an object, from 
the conception than from the actual perception of that object. 

146. The foregoing observations, with their respective 
illustrations, apply t»*conception as distinguished from im- 
agination. The two faculties, we observed, are very near- 
ly allied ; and are frequently so blended and compounded, 
that it is difficult to say, to which of the two, some particu- 
lar operations of the mind are to be referred. There are 
also general facts which hold equally with respect to both. 

147. The exercise both of conception and imagination is 
always accompanied with a belief that their objects exist. 

Ilhis. 1. Thus, when the imagination is very lively, as in dream- 
ing and madness, a real existence is ascribed to its objects ; and in 
the case too of those who, in spite of their own general belief of 
the absurdity of the vulgar stories of apparitions, dare not trust 
themselves alone with their own imaginations in the dark, we have, 
all the evidence that the thing admits of, that imagination is atten- 
ded with belief. Dr. Reid's friend, who could not sleep in a room 
alone, nor go alone into a room in the dark, felt and acted in the 
same manner as he would have done, if he had believed that the ob- 
jects of his fear were real, which is the only proof that the philoso- 
phers produce, or can produce, of the belief which accompanies 
perception. 

2. The painter who conceives the face and figure of an absent 
friend, in ordei to draw his picture, believes, for the moment, that 
his friend is before him. The belief is only momentary, for it is 
extremely difficult, in our waking hours, to keep up a steady and 
undivided attention to any object we conceive or imagine ; and as 
soon as the conception or imagination is over, the belief which atten- 
ded it is at an end. We, in fact, consider them as creations of the 
mind, which, have no separate and independent existence, from the 
facility with which we can recal or dismiss the objects of these 
powers at pleasure. Sut when the conceptions of the mind are 
rendered steady and permanent, by being strongly associated with 
any sensible impression, as when we gaze on a mag-nincent pros- 
pect, they command our belief no less that our actual perceptions, 
snd. therefore, if it. were possible for us, with our eyes shut, to keep 



chap. v. Of Conception' 05 

up for a length of time, the conception of the immense extent oi'thc 
whole scene that had formerly engaged our eyes, we should, as long 
as this effort continued, believe that all the different parts of which 
it was composed, were present to our senses . 

148. The knowledge we obtain by the eye, of the tangi- 
ble qualities of bodies, is the result of a complex operation 
of the mind ; comprehending ''".', the perception of those 
qualities, which ore the pn per .md original objects of 
sight; and, secondly, the conception of those tangible quali- 
fies, of which the original perceptions of sight are round 
from experience to be the si^ns. 

Corol. The notions, therefore, we form by means of the eye, of 
the tangible qualities of bodies, and of the distances of these ob- 
jects from the organ, are mere conceptions; strongly and indeed 
indissolubly, associated, by early and constant habit, v. ith the 
original perceptions of sight. 

149. The effects which exhibitions of fictitious distress 
produce on the mind, may all be resolved into the concep- 
tions we have, for the moment, that the whole is real. 

Illus. 1. During the representation of a tragedy, we have a gen- 
eral conviction that the whole is a fiction ; but, I believe, no 
person ever witnessed Mrs. Siddons, Miss O'Neill, Mr. John Kcin- 
ble, and Mr. Kean, in tragedy, who did not partake in the emotions 
which those artists created ; who did not entertain a momentary 
belief that the distresses, which wire but fictitious, were actually 
real. But whence arose this belief? whence the conception f — 
but from the contagion spread by the faithful expression of the 
passions. 

2. The emotions produced by tragedy are, thence, analogous to 
the dread we feel when we look down from the battlements of a 
tower ; — or the horror which seizes a person, who, fleeing from a 
conflagration, escapes from the top of a house, by a path, which, 
at another time, he would have considered as impracticable ; — or to 
the astonishment of soldiers, who, in mounting a breach, have 
found their way to the enemy, by a route which appeared inacces- 
sible after their violent passions had subsided. We have a general 
conviction that there is no ground for the feelings which we expe- 
rience during the representation of a tragedy, or when we look 
down from the battlements of a tower, any more than the person 
who has escaped from the fire has to feel horror at the recollec- 
tion of the imminent danger he was in as he traversed the hazardous 
path, or than the soldier's wonder at himself in having scrambled 
by a route the bare contemplation of which suspends his curiosity 
to retrace his footsteps. 



66 Jl Grammar of Logic. book ii» 

CHAPTER VI. 

OP ABSTRACTION. 

150. Abstraction is the faculty by which we analyse 
the actual assemblages of nature into their constituent 
parts. It is this faculty which enables us to ascertain 
what qualities an object has peculiar to itself, and what are 
in common to it, and other objects of a like nature, which 
will therefore be referred to the same class with it. In 
short, the whole process of the formation of general notions 
is due to the faculty of abstraction alone. 

Obs. Had we possessed no such faculty as abstraction, all our 
knowledge would have been limited to an acquaintance with in- 
dividual beings and individual facts. But the very essence of sci- 
ence consists in generalizing and reducing to a few classes, or 
g-eneral principles, the multitude of individual things which every 
branch of human knowledge embraces. Hence, without abstrac- 
tion, science would have had no existence ; and the knowledge 
of man would have been like that of the lower animals, in whom 
no traces of this faculty are discernible ; circumscribed to an ac- 
quaintance with those objects and events in nature with which he 
was connected by a regard to his own knowledge and preserva- 
tion. 

151. It is in the discovery of general principles, that rea- 
son iias its noblest exercise. It is generalization alone that 
makes it possible for us continually to go on in scientific 
improvement. 

Obs. It is in consequence of this, that at the moment when a 
multitude of particular solutions and of insulated facts begin to 
distract the attention, and to overcharge the memory, the former 
gradually lose themselves in one general method, and the latter 
unite in one general law ; and that these generalizations contin- 
ually succeeding one to another, like the successive multiplica- 
tions of a number into itself, have no other limit than that infinity 
which the human faculties are unable to comprehend. Hence it 
appears, that abstraction is completely subservient to all the no- 
bler exertions of reason ; to those, in particular, by which man 
has attained the high distinction of being denominated a rational 
animal. 

152. In proportion as a man familiarizes himself in the 
exercise of abstraction, and accustoms himself to consider 
what are the distinguishing characteristics of the various 
objects of his contemplation, and what they have in com- 
mon with others, does he fit himself for scientific pursuits. 

Obs. But it has been supposed that the formation of general prin- 



ohap. vi. Of Abstraction. 6? 

ciples is not entirely suited to the direction of our conduct in th„ 
iTwhS n r y0 K CCU1TenCeSOnife; and hencett ori^of hit mix 
everVat -5^?™° indllStrioilsl 7 propagated bf the dW of 

^ttK fSSJ sS^h^^S" 
the same person the intellectual power of man apnearsTn S, fi S 
Sutts r'orf fitS *"» «*»* t0 C0 » duct "Kb a HS rlV hid 82 

^d^is-S^ ^h S 

, _„ _,, '• <y 'Abstract or general Terms. 
laj. I he words we use in language are either general 
words, or proper names. Propel names belon" tf ndi 

5?.i i i *■ ■' t . " 0t a PPn>P™««l to signify any one in- 
horse I*"" 8 ' bUta ' e e<1Ua1 ^ rdatetl '« »>any fas man, 

/tow. Proper names are found only among- noun* All u 
participles, pronouns, conjunctions, iLr?e£ "and JSZ^ 
general terms. Of nouns all adjectives arj' general ™d the 1?' T 
part ot substantives. Every substantive rt,5uh« i , ^ eater 

06*. At the same time, we observe, that all tho nh£„t u- u 

Bssa?-- au the *s^« ^r^om^m 

Bmaifknd^nZ 8 ^ U ;V" pr °P er names make b »t a very 

Si are ocTand h" ** ° f * ^^ * (hat ^ 
names are local, and having no names answering to them 

m other languages, are not accounted a part of the a, 
fee "part S W%*3 Cl ' St0mS ° f a ha - let a - -cout 
1h na P n famil v ftT £ " atl ° n ' WUch less of the "hole 



68 A Grammar of Logic, book u. 

156. And the reason why general words make the great- 
est part of every language, may be easily accounted for by 
The following illustrations. 

Illus. 1. Every individual that falls within our view has various 
attributes ; and it is by these that it becomes, useful or hurtful to 
us. We know not the essence of any individual object. All the 
knowledge we can gain of it is the knowledge of its attributes, its 
quantity, its various relations to other things, its place, its situa- 
tion, its motions. It is by such attributes of things only that we 
communicate our knowledge of them to others. By their attri- 
butes,, our hopes and fears from them are regulated : and it is- 
only by attention to their attributes that we can make them 
subservient to our ends ; and therefore we give names to such 
attributes. 

2. Now all attributes must, from their nature, be expressed by- 
general words, and are so expressed in all languages. Anciently 
attributes were, in general, expressed by two names which ex- 
press their nature. They were called universale, because they 
might belong equally to many individuals, and are not confined to 
one. They were also called predicables, because whatever is predi- 
cated, that is, affirmed or denied of one subject, may be affirmed 
or denied of more than one, and is, therefore, an universal, and ex- 
pressed by a general word. A predicable, therefore, signifies the 
.same thing as an attribute, with this difference only, that the first 
word is Latin, the last English. The attributes which we find 
either in the works of nature, or of human ingenuity, are common 
to many individuals. We either find them to be so, or presume 
them to be so, and give them the same name in every subject to 
which they belong. 

3. There are not only attributes belonging- to individual sub- 
jects, but there are likewise attributes of attributes, which may be 
called secondary attributes. Most attributes are capable of differ- 
ent degrees and different modifications, which must be expressed 
by general words. 

Example. Thus, it is an attribute of many bodies to be moved.,, 
but motion may be in an endless variety of directions. It may be 
quick, or slow, rectilineal or curvilineal ; it may be equable, accel- 
erated, or retarded. 

CoroL As all attributes, therefore, whether primary or secondary, 
are expressed by general words, it follows, that in every proposi- 
ti'( i which we express in language, what is affirmed or denied of 
the subject of the proposition, must be expressed by general 
words. And that the subject of the proposition may often be a 
general word, will appear from the next illustration. 

Illus. 4. The same faculties by which we distinguish the differ- 
ent attributes belonging to the same subject, and give names to 
them, enable us likewise to observe, that many subjects agree in 
certain attributes, while they differ in others. By this means we 
are enabled to reduce individuals which are infinite, to a limited 
number of classes, which are all kinds or sorts, and, in the achdla$» 
lie dialect, these are called general species , 



HA*. \ i. Of Msiraction. 

157. Observing many individuals to agree in certain at- 
tributes, we refer them all to one class, and give a name 
to the class. This name comprehends in its signification, 
not one attribute only, but all the attributes which distin- 
guish that class, and by affirming this name of any indi- 
vidual, we affirm it to have all the attributes which charac- 
terize the class. 

Ilhts. Thus, men, clogs, horses, elephants, are so many different 
classes of animals. In like manner we marshal other substances, 
vegetable and inanimate, into classes ; as, oaks, elms, firs ; earths, 
minerals. We form also into classes, qualities, relations, actions 
affections, and passions, and all other things. 

158. When a class is very large, it is divided into sub- 
ordinate classes ; the higher class being called a gouts or 
kind ; the lower a species, or sort of the higher. Some- 
times a species is still subdivided into subordinate species ; 
and this subdivision is carried on as far as is found con- 
venient for the purpose of language, or for the improve- 
ment of knowledge. 

nius. In this distribution of things into genera and species, it is 
evident that the name of the species comprehends more attributes 
than the name of the genus. The species comprehends all that is 
in the genus, and those attributes likewise which distinguish that 
species from others belonging to the same genus ; and the more 
such divisions we make, the names of the lower become still the 
more comprehensive in their signification, but the less extensive in 
their application to individuals. 

Carol. Hence it is an axiom in logic, that the more extensive 
any general term is, it is the less comprehensive ; and on the con- 
trary, the more comprehensive, the less extensive. 

Example. In the following series of subordinate general terms, 
animal, man, Frenchman, Parisian, every subsequent term com- 
prehends in its signification, all that is in the preceding, and 
some tiling more ; and every antecedent term extends to more indi- 
viduals than the subsequent. 

159. Every genus, and every species of things, may be 
either the subject or the predicate of a proposition, nay of 
innumerable propositions ; for every attribute common to 
the genus or species, may be affirmed of it ; and the genus 
may be affirmed of every species, and both genus and spe- 
cies of every individual to which it extends. 

Illus. 1. Thus, of man, it may be affirmed, that he is an animal 
made up of body and mind ; that he is of few days and full of 
trouble ; that he is capable of various improvements in arts, in 
knowledge, and in virtue. In a word, every thing common to the 
species may be affirmed of man ; and of all such propositions. 
which are innumerable, man is the subject. 
7* 



70 A Grammar of Logic, kook u- 

2. Again, of every nation and tribe, and of every individual of 
the human race that is, that was, or that shall be, it may be affir- 
med that they are men. In all such propositions, which are innu- 
merable, man is the predicate of the proposition. 

Obs. We have observed above an extension and comprehen- 
sion of general terms ; and that in any subdivision of things, the 
name of the lowest species .is most comprehensive, and that oi 
the highest genus most extensive ; we shall now see that, by 
means of such general terms, there is also an extension and com- 
prehension of propositions which is one of the noblest powers of 
language, and fits it for expressing, with great ease and expedi- 
tion, the highest attainments in knowledg-e of which the human 
understanding is capable. 

160. When the predicate is a genus or a species, the 
proposition is more or less comprehensive, according as the 
predicate is so. 

Jlhis. Thus, when I say, that this seal is gold, by this single pro- 
position I affirm of it all the properties which that metal is known 
to have. When I say of any man, that he is a mathematician, this 
appellation comprehends all the attributes that belong to him as an 
animal, as a man, and as one who has studied mathematics. When 
I say, that the orbit of the planet Mercury is an ellipse, I thereby affirm 
of that orbit all the properties which Apollonius or other geometri- 
cians have discovered, or which maybe discovered, of that species 
of figure. 

161. Again, when the subject of a proposition is a genus 
or a species, the proposition is more or less extensive, ac- 
cording as the subject is. 

JRus. Thus, when I am taught, that the three angles of a plane tri- 
angle are equal to two right angles ,- this proposition extends to eve- 
ry species of plane triangle, and to every individual plane triangle 
which has existed, which does exist, or which can exist. 

Obs. Such extensive and comprehensive propositions condense 
human knowledge, and adapt it to the capacity of our minds with 
great addition to its beauty, and without any diminution to its dis- 
tinctness and perspicuity. 

II. Of General Conceptions, 

162. Words could have no general signification, unless 
there had been conceptions in the minds of those who used 
them, of things that are general ; and it is to such that we 
give the names of general conceptions. These conceptions 
take this denomination, not from the act of the mind in 
conceiving, which is an individual act, but from the object 
or thing conceived, which is general. 

163. General conceptions are expressed by general 
terms, that is, by such general words as may be the subject 
or the predicate of a proposition; and these terms are ei- 



omap. vi. , Of' Abstraction. 71 

(her attributes of things, or they signify genera or species 
of things. 

164. We have a more distinct conception of the attri- 
butes of all the individuals with which we are acquainted, 
than of the subject to which those attributes belong. 

Illus. 1. The conception that we form of any individual bod} 
we have access to know, is, that it has length, breadth, and thick- 
ness ; such a figure, and such a colour ; that it is hard, or soft, or 
fluid ; — that it has such qualities, and is fit for such purposes. 
If it is a vegetable, we may know where it grows, what is the form 
of its leaves, and flower and seed. If an animal, what are its na- 
tural instincts, its manner of life, and of rearing its young. Of 
these attributes belonging to this individual and numberless others, 
v e may surely have a distinct conception ; and we shall find 
words in language by which we can clearly and distinctly express 
them. 

2. If we consider, in like manner, the conception that we form 
of any individual person of our acquaintance, we shall find it to be 
made up of various attributes, which we ascribe to him ; such as, 
that he is the son of such a man, the brother of such another, that 
he has such an employment or office, such a fortune, that he is tall 
or short, well or ill made, comely or ill favoured, young or old, 
married or unmarried ; to this we may add, his temper, his cha- 
racter, his abilities, and perhaps some anecdotes of his history. 
Such is the conception we form of individual persons of our ac- 
quaintance ; by such attributes we describe them to those who 
know them not ; and by such attributes historians give us a con- 
ception of the personages of former times : nor is it possible to 
describe them in any other way. 

Corol. All the distinct knowledge we have or can have of any 
individual, is the knowledge of its attributes, for we know not 
the essence of any individual ; and indeed this seems to be be- 
yond the reach of the human faculties. 

165. Now every attribute is what the ancients called an 
universal. It is or may be, common to various individu- 
als ; and, on this account, attributes are expressed by 
general words. 

Obs. 1. It appears likewise, from every man's experience, that 
he may have as clear and distinct a conception of such attributes as 
we have named, and of innumerable others, as he can have of any 
individual to which they belong. 

2. Indeed, ill that we distinctly conceive about individuals is a- 
bout their attributes. It is true we conceive a subject to which 
they belong ; but of this subject, whether it be body or mind, when 
its attributes are set aside, we have but an obscure and relative 
conception. 

166. The other class of general terms are those that 
signify the genera and species, into which we divide and 



72 A Gramma? of Logic. book \i> 

subdivide things. And if we be able to form distinct con- 
ceptions of attributes, it cannot surely be denied that we 
have distinct conceptions of genera and species; because 
they are only collections of attributes, which we conceive 
to exist in a subject, and to which we give a general name. 
If the attributes comprehended under that general name be 
distinctly conceived, the thing meant by the name must be 
distinctly conceived ; and the name may be justly attribu- 
ted to every individual that has those attributes. 

Iilus. Thus, we can conceive distinctly what it is to have wing's, 
to be covered with feathers, to lay eggs. Suppose then we give 
the name of bird to every animal that has these three attributes. 
And if this be admitted to be the definition of a bird, there is noth- 
ing that we can conceive more distinctly; for undoubtedly our con- 
ception of the animal is as distinct as our notion of the attributes 
which are common to the species. If we had never seen a bird, 
and can but be made to understand the definition, we can easily ap- 
ply it, without danger of mistake, to every individual of the species. 

167. When things are divided and subdivided by men 
of science, and names given to the genera and species, 
those names are defined. 

Ilhis. Thus, the genera and species of plants, and of other natu- 
ral bodies, are accurately defined by writers in the various bran- 
ches of natural history; so that, to all future generations, the defi- 
nition will convey a distinct notion of the genus or species defined. 

168. When we meet with words signifying genera and 
species of things, which have a meaning somewhat vague 
and indistinct ; so that they who speak the same language 
do not always use them in the same sense ; we may rest as- 
sured that there is no definition of them which has au- 
thority. 

Illus. Thus, a man may know, that when he applies the name of 
beast to a lion or a tiger ,■ and the name of bird to an eagle or a tur- 
key, he speaks properly ; but whether a bat be a bird or a beast, he 
may be uncertain. If of a beast and of a bird there was any accu- 
rate definition, of sufficient authority, he cc-ald be at no loss. And, 
strange as it may seem, legislators have seldom or never thought fit 
to give the definition of a man. 

Carol. A genus or species being a collection of attributes, conceiv- 
ed to exist in one subject, a definition is therefore the only way to 
prevent any addition or diminution of its ingredients in the concep- 
tion of different persons, and when there is no definition that can be 
appealed to as a standard, the name will hardly retain precision in 
its signification. 

169. To conceive the meaning ofageneral word, and to con- 
ceive that which it signifies, is the same thing. We conceive 



. vi. Of Abstraction. 

distinctly the meaning of general terms, therefore we con- 
ceive distinctly that which they signify. But such terms do 
ignify any individual, but what is common to many in- 
dividuals : therefore, we have a distinct conception of things 
common to many individuals : — that is, we have distinct ge- 
neral conceptions. 

170. We must here beware of the ambiguity that is some- 
times thrown around the word conception in popular lan- 
guage, which sometimes makes it signify the act of the mind 

iceiving, sometimes the thing conceived, which is the 
object of that act. When the word is taken in the first 
sense, every act of the mind is an individual act : the ten i- 
versality, therefore, is not in the act of the mind, but in the 
object, or thing conceived. The thing conceived is an attri- 
bute common to many subjects, or it is a genus or a species 
common to many individuals. 

Illus. Suppose we conceive a triangle ; that is, a plane figure ter- 
minated by three right lines. He that understands this definition 
distinctly, has a distinct conception of a triangle. But a triangle is 
not an individual j it is a species. The act of my mind in conceiv- 
ing it is an individual act, and lias a real existence; but the thing 
conceived is general, and cannot exist without other attributes, 
which are not included in the definition. Every triangle that real- 
ly exists must have a certain length of sides and measure of angles; 
it must besides have place and time ; but the definition of a trian- 
gle includes neither existence, nor any of those attributes; and 
therefore they are not included in the conception of a triangle, 
which cannot be accurate if it comprehended more than the defi- 
nition. 

Cord. Thus, it appears to be evident, that we have general con- 
ceptions that are clear and distinct, both of attributes of things and 
of g-enera and species of things. 

III. Of general Conceptions formed by analyzing objects. 

171. The operations of the mind, by which we are 
enabled to form general conceptions, appear to be three: 

First. The resolving or analyzing a subject into Un- 
known attributes, and giving a name to each attribute, 
which name shall signify that attribute, and nothing more. 

Secondly. The observing of one attribute, or more attri- 
butes than one, to be common to many objects. The first 
is by philosophers called (distraction; the second may be 
called generalizing ; but both are commonly included un- 
der the name of abstraction. 

A third operation of the mind, by which we form abstract 
conceptions, is the combining into one whole a certain num- 
ber of 'ho'e attributes of which we have formed abstract no- 



74 •& Grammar of Logic. book h. 

tions, and giving a name to that combination. It is thus 
we form abstract notions of the genera and species of 
things. 

172. There is nothing with regard to abstraction, strictly 
30 called, that is either difficult to be understood or prac- 
tised. 

Illus. What can be more easy than to distinguish the different at- 
tributes which we know to belong- to any subject? In a man, for 
iiistance, to distinguish his size, his complexion, his age, his fortune, 
his birth, his profession, and twenty other things that belong to 
him. To think and speak of those things with understanding, is 
surely within the reach of every man endowed with human facul- 
ties. 

173. There may be distinctions that require nice dis- 
cernment, or an acquaintance with the subject that is not 
common. 

Illvs. Thus, a critic in painting may discern the style of Raphael 
or Titian, when another man could not. A lawyer may be acquain- 
ted with many distinctions in crimes, and contracts, and actions, 
which never entered the head of a man who has not studied law. 
One man may excel another in the talent of distinguishing', as he 
may in memory or in r<.:tsoning; but there is a certain degree of 
this talent, without which a man could have no title to be conside- 
red a reasonable creature. 

174. We may in our conception, with perfect ease, 
distinguish and disjoin attributes, which cannot be actual- 
ly separated in the subject. 

Ilhis. Thus, in a body, we can distinguish its solidity from its 
extension, and its weight from both. In extension, we can distin- 
guish length, breadth, and thickness, yet none of these can be 
separated from the body, or from one another. 

175. There may be attributes belonging to a subject, and 
inseparable from it, of which we have no knowledge, and 
consequently no conception ; but this does not hinder us 
from conceiving distinctly those of its attributes which we 
do know. 

Illus. Thus, all the properties of a circle are inseparable from 
the nature of a circle, and may be demonstrated from its defini- 
tion ; yet a man may have a perfectly distinct notion of a circle, 
who knows very few of those properties belonging to it which 
mathematicians have described : and a circle has, probably, many 
properties which mathematicians never dreamed of. 

Corol, It is therefore certain, that attributes, which, in their na- 
ture are absolutely inseparable from their subject, and from one 
another, may be disjoined in our conception; one cannot exis" 
without the other, but one can be conceived without the other 



«hap. w. Of Abstraction. 75 

IV. Of the Operation of Generalizing. 

176. We proceed now to consider the operation of gen- 
eralizing, which is nothing but the observing of one attri- 
bute, or more attributes than one, to be common to many 
subjects. 

Ilhis. There are many men above six feet high, and many below 
that height ; many men are rich, many poor ; many born in Bri- 
tain, many born in France. But here, size, fortune, and country, 
are attributes. There are, therefore, innumerable attributes which 
are common to many individuals; and if this be what the school- 
men called universale a parte rei, we may affirm, with certainty, 
that there are such universals. 

177. There are some attributes expressed by general 
words, and of these, this position may seem more doubt- 
ful; as, for instance, the qualities which are inherent in 
their several subjects. It may be said that every subject 
hath its own qualities, and that which is the quality of one 
subject cannot be the quality of another subject. 

Illus. 1. Thus, the whiteness of the sheet of paper that I write 
upon cannot be the whiteness of another sheet, though both are 
called white. The weight of one guinea is not the weight of 
another guinea, though both are said to have the same weight. 

2. To this we answer, that the whiteness of this sheet is one 
thing, whiteness is another ; the Jirst signifies an individual quality 
really existing, and is not a general conception, though it be an 
abstract one ; the second signifies a general conception, which irfi- 
plies no existence, but which, in the same sense, may be predicated 
every thing that is white. 

3. On this account, if any one should say, that the whiteness of 
this sheet is the whiteness of another sheet, every one perceives 
this to be absurd; but when he says both sheets are white, this is 
true and perfectly understood. The conception of whiteness im- 
plies no existence ; it would remain the same, though every thing 
in the universe that is white were annihilated. 

Carol. 1. It appears, therefore, that the general names of quali- 
ties, as well as of other attributes, are applicable to many indviduals 
in the same sense, which cannot be if there be not general concep- 
tions signified by such names. 

2. It appears further, that, since no individual can have a plural 
number, fArt. 154. Illus. J as soon as a child can say with under- 
standing, that he has two brothers or two sisters ; as soon as he can 
use the plural number, so soon must he have general conceptions. 

178. As there are not two individuals in nature that a- 
gree in every thing, so there are very few that do not agree 
in some things. 

Illus. 1. We take pleasure from our earliest years, in observing 
such agreements ; and one branch of what we call wit, which, when 
innocent, gives pleasure to every good man, consists in discovering 



76 A Grammar of Logic. book it. 

unexpected agreements in things. Thus, the author of Hudibras 
could discern a property common to the morning and a boiled lob- 
ster, which both turn from black to red. And Swift could see some- 
thing' common to -wit and an old cheese. (See Art. 213. Illus. J 

2. Such agreements may shew wit; but there are innumerable 
agreements of things which cannot escape the notice of the lowest 
understanding" ; such as agreements in colour, magnitude, figure, 
features, time, place, age, and so forth. And these agreements are 
the foundation of so many common attributes, which are found in 
the rudest languages. 

179. The ancient philosophers called those universals, or 
predicables, and endeavoured to reduce them to five clas- 
ses : namely, genus, species, specific difference, properties, 
and accidents. 

180. The proneness of mankind to form general concep- 
tions, is seen from the case of metaphor and of the other fig- 
ures of speech, grounded on similitude. 

Illus. Similitude is nothing else but an agreement of the objects 
compared in one or more attributes; and if there be no attribute 
common to both, there can be no similitude. (See JBooklV. of my 
Grammar of Rhetoric for a complete illustration of this matter.) 

181. Sometimes the name of an individual is given to a 
general conception, and thus the name of an individual, by 
being applied to his attributes, instead of his person, be- 
comes generalized. 

Illus. 1. Thus, Shylcck, in the Merchant of Venice, says : 

A Daniel come to judgment ; yea, a Daniel ! 
In this speech a Daniel is an attribute, or an universal. 

2. And when we say of any eminent mathematician or astrono- 
mer, that " he is a Newton " we generalize the name of the indi- 
vidual Newton ; and it thus becomes an attribute or universal. 

3. In the first example, the character of Daniel, as a man of sin- 
gular wisdom; and in the second, that of Newton, as an eminent 
mathematician or astronomer, is abstracted from his person, and 
considered as capable of being attributed to other persons. 

182. Upon the whole, these two operations of abstracting 
and generalizing, appear to be common to all men that have 
understanding. The practice of them is, and must be, fa- 
miliar to every man that uses language ; but it is one thins 
to practice them, and another to explain how they are per- 
formed ; as it is one thing to see, and another to exj 
how we do see. 

Illus. Thus, when I consider a billiard ball, its colour is one attri- 
bute, which I signify by calling it ivhite ,■ itsjigure is another, which 
is signified by calling' it spherical; the firm cohesion of its p 
signified by calling' it hard; its recoiling, when it strikes a hard 
body, is signified by its being- called elastic ,• its origin, being 



bhap. VI. &f Abstraction. 77 

©f the tooth of an elephant, is signified by calling 1 it ivory ,• and it's 
use, by calling' it a billiard ball. 

Corol. The words whereby each of those attributes is signified, 
have distinct meanings, and under these meanings they are appli- 
cable to many individuals. They signify not any individual thing, 
but attributes common to many individuals ; and it is within the 
capacity of a child to understand them perfectly, and to apply them 
properly to every individual in which they are found. 

V. General Conceptions formed by Combinations. 

183. As, by an intellectual analysis of objects, we form 
•general conceptions of single attributes, (which, of all con- 
ceptions that enter into the human mind, are the most 
simple,) so, by combining several of these into one parcel, 
and giving a name to that combination, we form general con- 
ceptions that may be very complex, and at the same time 
very distinct. 

IUns. 1. Thus, one who by analysing extended objects, has got 
the simple notions of a point, a line — straight or curved — an angle, 
a surface, a solid, can easily conceive a plane surface terminated by 
four equal straight lines, meeting in four points at right angles. 
To this species of figure he gives the name of a square. In like 
manner, he can conceive a solid terminated by six equal squares, 
and give it the name of a cube. A square, a cube, and every name 
of mathematical figure, is a general term, expressing a complex 
general conception, made by a certain combination of the simple 
elements into which we analyse extended bodies. The definition 
contains the whole essence of the figure defined ; and every pro- 
perty that belongs to it may be deduced by demonstrative reason- 
ing from the definition. It is not a thing that exists, for then it 
would be an individual ; but it is a tiling that is conceived without 
regard to existence. 

2. A farm, a manor, a parish, a county, a kingdom, are complex 
general conceptions, formed by various combinations and modifi- 
cations of inhabited territory, under certain forms of government. 

3. Different combinations of military men form the notions of a 
company, a regiment, a brigade, an army. 

4. The several crimes which are the objects of criminal law, 
such as theft, murder, robbery, piracy, are only certain combina- 
tions of human actions defined in criminal law, and which it is 
found convenient to apprehend under one name, and consider as 
one thing. 

184. When we observe that nature, in her animal, vegeta- 
ble, and inanimate productions, has formed many individuals 
that -agree in many of their qualities and attributes, we are 
led by natural instinct to expect their agreement in other 
qualities, which we have not had occasion to perceive. 

Jllus. Thus, a child, who has once burned his finger, by putting 
it in the flame of a candle, expects the same event to happen if 



78 A Grammar of Logic. book n. 

he puts it in the flame of another candle, or in any flame, and is 
thereby led to think that the quality of burning belongs to all 
flame. 

Obs. Tins instinctive induction is not justified by the rules of 
logic, and it sometimes leads us into harmless mistakes, which 
experience may afterwards correct ; but it preserves us from innu- 
merable dangers to which we are exposed. 

185. We have noticed, in this place, this principle in 
human nature, because the distribution of the productions 
of nature into genera and species becomes, on account of 
this principle, more generally useful. 

Illus. 1. The physician expects that the rhubarb which has never 
been tried will have the like medical virtues with that which he 
has prescribed on former occasions. Two parcels of rhubarb agree 
in certain sensible qualities, from which agreement they are both 
called by the same general name rhubarb. Therefore, it is expec- 
ted that they will agree in their medical virtues. And as experi- 
ence has discovered certain virtues in one parcel, or in many 
parcels, we presume, without experience, that the same virtues 
belong to all parcels of rhubarb that shall be used. 

2. If a traveller meets a horse, an ox, or a sheep, which he never 
saw before, he is under no apprehension, believing these animals 
to be of a species that is tame ; but he dreads a lion, a bear, or a 
tiger, because they are of a fierce and ravenous species. 

Corol. We have, therefore, a strong and rational inducement, 
both to distribute natural substances into classes, genera and spe- 
cies, under general names ; and, moreover, to do this with all the 
accuracy and distinctness with which we are capable : for the 
more accurate our divisions are made, and the more distinctly the 
several species are defined, the more accurately we may rely, that 
the several qualities which we find in one individual, or in a few 
individuals, will be found in all the individuals of the same species. 

186. Every species of natural substances, which has a 
name in language, is an attribute of many individuals, and 
is itself a combination of more simple attributes, which we 
observe to be common to those individuals. And almost all 
the words of every language signify combinations of more 
simple general conceptions, which men have found proper 
to bind up, as it were, in one parcel, by being designated by 
one name. 

187. There are, however, some general conceptions, which 
nay more properly be called compositio7is, or works of mere 
combination. 

Illus. 1. Thus, one may conceive a machine which never exist- 
ed. He may conceive an air in music, a poem, a plan of archi- 
tecture, a constitution of government, a plan of conduct in private 
or in public life, a discourse, a tragedy, a comedy, a treatise on 
some science or art. Such compositions are things conceived in 



chap. vi. Of Abstraction. 79 

the mind of the author, not individuals that really exist ; and the 
same general conception which the author had, may be communi- 
cated to others by language. Thus, the Oceana of Harrington 
was conceived in the mind of its author. The materials of which 
it is composed, are tilings conceived, not things that existed. His 
senate, his popular assembly, his magistrates, his elections, are all 
conceptions of his mind, and the whole is one complex conception. 
And the same may be said of ever}- work of the human under- 
standing. 

2. The works of God, on the contrary, are works of creative 
power, not of understanding only. They have a real existence. 
Our conceptions of them are, however, partial and imperfect. 
But of the works of the human understanding our conception may 
be perfect and complete. They are nothing but what the author 
conceived, and what he can express by language, so as to convey 
his conception perfectly to men like himself. But these works of 
the human understanding are the objects of judgment and taste, 
rather than of bare conception or simple apprehension. 

188. To return, therefore, to those complex conceptions, 
which are formed merely by combining others that are more 
simple, let us observe, that nature has given us the power of 
combining such simple attributes and such a number of them, 
as we find proper ; and of giving one name to that combi- 
nation, and considering it as one object of thought. 

Jllus. The simple attributes of things, which fall under our 
observation, are not so numerous, that they might not all have 
names in a copious language ; but, to give names to all the combi- 
nations that can be made of two, three, or more of those attributes, 
would be impossible. The most copious languages have names 
but for a very small part of them. 

Corol. We conclude, therefore, that there are either certain 
common occurrences of human life, which dispose men, out of an 
infinite number that might be found, to form certain combinations 
rather than others. And nature, in a manner, points out those 
simple ideas which are most proper to be united into a complex 
one, not solely by the relations between simple ideas, of contigu- 
ity, causation, and resemblance; but rather by the fitness of the 
combinations we make, to aid our own conceptions, and to convey 
them easily and agreeably to others by written or spoken language. 

189. The end and use of language lead men that have 
common understanding to form such complex notions as 
are proper for expressing their wants, their thoughts, their 
desires ; and in every language we shall find these to be the 
complex notions that have names. 

I Hits. 1. In the rudest languages, men must have occasion to 
form the general notions of man, woman, father, mother, son, 
daughter, sister, brother, neighbour, friend, enemy, and many 
others, to express the common relations of one person to another. 

2. If they are employed in hunting and fishing, they must have 



8D Jl Grammar of Logic, book ii. 

general terms to express, the various operations of the chace, the 
stream, the lake, or the sea. Their houses and clothing will 
furnish another set of general terms, to express the materials, the 
Workmanship, and the excellencies and defects of those fabrics. 

3. The arts of agriculture and pasturage will give occasion to 
other general terms for communicating thoughts peculiar to those 
arts ; and the invention of those terms, as far as the shepherd or 
the farmer finds them necessary, requires no other talent but that 
degree of understanding which is common to men. 

4. With commerce have originated the notions of debtor and 
creditor, of profit and loss, of account, balance, stock on hand, and 
many other terms equally general. 

5. To navigation are owing the notions of latitude, longitude, 
course, distance run, windward, leeward ; as well as those notions 
which we have of ships, and their various parts, furniture, and 
operations. 

6. The anatomist has his names for the various similar and dis> 
similar parts of the human body, and words to express their figure, 
position, structure, and use. The physician must have names also 
for the various diseases of the body, their causes, symptoms, and 
the means of cure. 

7. The grammarian, the logician, the critic, the rhetorician, the 
moralist, the naturalist, the mechanic, and, in a word, every man 
that professes any art or science, must have general terms for 
expressing his sentiments in every branch of the knowledge he 
Would communicate to others. 

190. Discoveries in nature, art, and science, give rise to 
new combinations and new words, the invention of which is 
easy to those who have a distinct notion of the thing to be 
expressed ; and such words are readily adopted, and receive 
the public sanction, because the most necessary and useful 
arts are common property — because the important parts of 
human knowledge are common property ; and, among civili- 
zed nations, their several languages will be fitted to express 
these new complex notions and new names, which will 
spread as far as the invention or discovery becomes known. 

191. What is peculiar to a nation in its customs, manners, 
or laws, will give occasion to complex notions and words 
peculiar to the language of that nation. 

Illus. Hence it is easy to see why an impeachment and an attain- 
der in the English language, and ostracism in the Greek language, 
have not names answering to them in other languages. 

Corol. Whence, it would appear, that utility, not the associa- 
ting qualities of ideas, ( Corol. Art. 18.) most frequently led men 
to form only certain combinations, and to give names to them in lan- 
guage, while they neglect an infinite number that might be formed. 

192. The common occurrences of life, in the intercourse 
o€ men, and in their occupations, give occasion to many com- 
plex notions; 



chap. vi. Of Abstraction. &l 

I Hits. 1. Thus men have formed the complex notions of eating-, 
drinking, dressing - , sleeping, walking, riding, running, buying, 
selling, ploughing, sowing, a dance, a fair, a feast, a wedding, a 
burial, war, a battle, victory, triumph, peace ; and other words 
without number. 

2. Such things must frequently be the subject of conversation; 
and if we had not a more compendious way of expressing them 
than by a detail of all the simple notions which they compre- 
hended, we should lose the benefit of speech ; for who, for exam- 
ple, to communicate the complex notion which the word war gives 
civilized men, would ever go about gravely to tell us, " The 
consideration of safety leads to the invention of arms, and places 
of retreat. The earliest weapons were men's fists, then clubs, 
slings, and bows and arrows. To these succeeded, in process of 
time, the spear and the sword, joined to the buckler and the 
shield ; fire-arms, called matchlocks, cannon, and then musketry 
and rockets. But the desire of retreats gave rise to fortification ; 
and the art of war, in every age, must be accommodated to the spe- 
cies of arms, engines and methods of fortification in use." — Yet 
even this roundabout meaning of the complex notion we have 
of the general term war, hath not included companies, regiments, 
brigades, armies; magazines of provisions, commissaries; barracks, 
camps ; army contractors, army agents, army accoutrement ma- 
kers ; a commander in chief, loans to goveiment to can-y on the 
war, and a thousand other terms, not one of which is simple, are 
all component parts of the complex notion which the experience 
of our own times gives us of that detestable word tear. 

3. The different talents, dispositions, and habits or" men in socie- 
ty, have in every language general names ; such as wise, foolish, 
knowing, ignorant, proud, vain. 

4. In every operative art the tools, instruments, materials, the 
work produced, and the various excellencies or defects of these, 
must have general names. 

5. Technical terms in the sciences, make another class of gene- 
ral names of complex notions ; as in mathematics, axiom, defini- 
tion, problem, theorem, corollary, scholium, lemma. 

6. The various relations of persons and of things, which cannot 
escape the observation of men in society, lead them to many 
complex general notions ; such as, father, brother, friend, enemy, 
master, servant, property, theft, rebellion. 

7. In all the languages of mankind, not only the writings and 
discourses of the learned, but the conversation of the vulgar, is al- 
most entirely made up of general words, which are the signs of 
general conceptions, either simple or complex. And in every lan- 
guage, we find the terms signifying complex notions to be such, 
and only such, as the use of language requires. 

193. A very large class of complex terms are those by 
which we name the species, genera, and tribes of natural 
substances. Utility leads to the adoption of these general 
names, and nature directs us in combining the attributes 
■which are incladed under anv specific name ; but in form- 

8 * 



82 S. Grammar of Logic. book it. 

ing other combinations of mixed modes and relations, the 
actions or thoughts of men, or the occurrences of life, bring 
the ingredients together. 

Ulus. We form a general notion of those attributes wherein ma- 
ny individuals agree. To this combination we give a specific name, 
which is common to all substances, having those attributes, which 
either do or may exist. The specific name comprehends, neither 
more nor fewer attributes than we find proper to put into its defi- 
nition. . It comprehends not time, nor place, nor even existence, 
though there can be no individual without these. 

194. Without some general knowledge of the qualities of 
natural substances, human life would not be preserved. 
And there can be no general knowledge of this kind, with- 
out reducing them to species under specific names. 

Ulus. For this reason, among the rudest nations, we find names 
for fire, water, earth, air, mountains, fountains, rivers ; for the kinds 
of vegetables which those nations use ; for the animals which they 
hunt or tame, or which are found useful or hurtful. Each of those 
names signifies, in general, a substance having a certain combina- 
tion of attributes. The name must therefore be common to all sub- 
stances in which those attributes are found. 

195. As the knowledge of nature advances, more species 
of natural substances are observed, and their useful quali- 
ties discovered. And in order that this important part of 
human knowledge may be communicated, and handed down 
to future generations, it is not sufficient that the species 
have names ; — the fluctuating state of language does not 
permit general names always to retain the same precise 
signification ; — hence the necessity of definitions, in which 
men are disposed to acquiesce. 

Illus. 1. To give names and accurate definitions of all the known 
species of substances is necessary, in order to form a distinct lan- 
guage concerning them, and consequently to facilitate our know- 
ledge respecting them, and to convey it to future generations. 

2. Every species that is known to exist ought to have a name ; 
and that name ought to be defined by such attributes as serve best 
to distinguish the species from all others. 

3. Nature invites to this work, by having formed things so as to 
make it both easy and important. 

For, first, We perceive numbers of individual substances so like 
in their obvious qualities, that the most imimproved tribes of men 
consider them as of one species, and give them one common name. 

Secondly. The more latent qualities of substances are generally 
the same in all the individuals of a species ; so that what, by obser- 
vation or experiment, is found in a few individuals of a species, is 
presumed, and commonly found to belong to the whole. By this 
Ave are enabled, from particular facts, to draw general conclusions. 
This kind of induction is indeed the master-key to the knowledge 



ohap. vi. Of Abstraction. 8S 

of nature, without which we could form no general conclusions in 
that branch of philosophy. 

And, thirdly, By the very constitution of our nature, we are led, 
without reasoning-, to ascribe to the whole species what we have 
found to belong 1 to the individuals. It is thus we come to know that 
fire burns, and that water drowns ; that bodies gravitate, and that 
bread nourishes. 

196. The species cf the animal and vegetable kingdoms, 
seem to be fixed by nature, by the power which they have 
of producing their like. And in these, men in all ages and 
nations, have accounted the parent and the progeny the 
same species. 

Obs. 1. The differences observed by naturalists, with regard to 
the species of these two kingdoms, are termed varieties, and may 
be produced by soil, climate, and culture, and sometimes by mon- 
strous productions, which are, however, comparatively rare. 

2. In the inanimate kingdom things have been divided into 
species, though the limits of these species seem to be somewhat 
arbitrary ; but, from the progress already made, there is ground to 
hope, that even in this kingdom, as the knowledge ef it advances, 
the various species may be so well distinguished and defined, as to 
answer every valuable purpose. 

197. When the species are so numerous as to burden the 
memory, it is greatly assisted by distributing thein into 
genera; the genera into tribes; the tribes into orders; and 
the orders into classes. Such a regular distribution of na- 
tural substances, by divisions and subdivisions, has got the 
name of a system. 

Uhis. 1. It is not, lieu ever, a system of truths, but a system of 
general terms, with their definitions; and it is not only a great help 
to the memory, but facilitates very much the definition of the terms. 
For the definition of the genus is common to all the species of that 
genus, and is so understood in the definition of each species, with- 
out the trouble of repetition. In like manner the definition of a 
tribe is understood in the definition of every genus, and every 
species of that tribe; and the same may be said of every superior 
division. 

2. The effect of such a systematical distribution of the productions 
of nature, is seen in our systems of zoology, botany, and mineralogy; 
in which a species is accurately defined in a fine or two, which, 
without this systematical arrangement, could hardly be defined in a 
page. 

3. The talent of arranging properly affords the strongest proof 
of genius, and is entitled to a high degree of praise. There is an 
intrinsic beauty in arrangement ; it captivates the mind and gives 
pleasure, even abstracting from its utility. The arrangement of an 
army drawn up for battle, is a grand spectacle ; the same number 
of men crowded together in a fair has no such effect. 

4. In order to remove all ambiguity in the names of diseases, and 



84 A Grammar of Logic. 6ook it. 

to advance the healing- art, very eminent medical men have now re- 
duced into a systematical order the diseases of the human body, and 
given distinct names and accurate definitions, of the species, genera, 
orders, and classes, into which they distribute them. And in Paris 
there is noAV a professor of medicine, who, in lecturing' to his stu- 
dents on cutaneous diseases, arranges the patients according to the 
classes or varieties of the disease, under trees when the weather 
will permit, on which a large placard is fixed, to indicate the class 
or variety of the disease ; and when it is necessary for the professor 
to have a patient beside him, to afford ocular demonstration of the 
illustrations he is g-iving, in place of calling the patient by his Chris- 
tian or sirname, the professor calls him by the name of the class to 
which his disease belongs. Such improvements, like the invention 
of printing, serve to embalm a most important branch of human 
knowledge, and to preserve it from being corrupted or lost. 



CHAPTER VII. 

OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS, OR COMBINATION. 

198. Association, or the combination of ideas, is the 
faculty by which we connect objects together, according to 
various relations, essential or accidental, so that they are 
suggested to us, the one by the other. 

Obs. It is matter of the most familiar observation, that we are apt 
to connect together the various objects of our thoughts according 
to some real or supposed relations which we observe among them ; 
so that they come afterwards to be suggested to the mind, the one 
by the other. By the faculty of abstraction we analyse individual 
objects, so as to make their various qualities and attributes sepa- 
rate subjects of our thoughts ; by the faculty of combination we 
form these objects into various classes, or groups, according to some 
observed resemblance among" them, or we connect together certain 
individuals which have no real relation to one another, merely on 
account of some accidental circumstance which has -occasioned 
them to be present to our thoughts at the same moment. » Both fa- 
culties are eminently subservient to the advancement of our know- 
ledge, and the progress of scientific investigation ; the object of 
which is, to ascertain those general laws, or first principles, accor- 
ding to which the phenomena of whole classes of beings are regula- 
ted. 

199. Association, or the combination of ideas, naturally 
divides itself into two parts: the first, as it relates to the 
influence of association, in regulating the succession of our 
thoughts; the second, as it relates to its influence on the 
intellectual powers, and on the moral character, by the more 



phap. vii. Of the Association of Ideas. $5 

intimate and indissoluble combinations- which it leads us to 
form in infancy and early youth. 

200. The influence of association in regulating the suc- 
cession of our thoughts, is a fact familiar to all men : that 
one thought is often suggested to the mind by another ; and 
that the sight of an external object often recals former oc- 
currences and revives former feelings, are facts which have 
never been disputed by those who speculate least on the 
principles of their nature. 

IIlus. 1. Travelling- along- a road that we have formerly traversed 
with a friend, the particulars of the conversation in which we were 
then engaged, are frequently suggested to us by the objects with 
which we meet. — A field, a house, a plantation, a stream, will sug- 
gest the conversation, and the arguments which were discussed 
start like apparitions to our mind's eye, or recur spontaneously to 
the memory. 

2. On the same general law of our nature, are obvio\is the con- 
nection formed in our mind between the different words of a lan- 
guage and the ideas they denote ; that between the different words 
of a discourse we have committed to memory ; and that between 
the notes of a piece of music in the mind of the musician. 

201. The influence of perceptible objects in reviving for- 
mer thoughts and former feelings, is peculiarly remarkable. 

Illus. "Whilst we were at dinner," says Captain King, "in this 
miserable hut, on the banks of the river Awatska, the guests of a 
people with whose existence we had before been scarce acquainted, 
and at the extremity of the habitable globe, a solitary half-worn 
pewter spoon, whose shape was familiar to us, attracted our atten- 
tion ; and, on examining it, we found it stamped on the back with 
the word London. I cannot pass over this circumstance in silence, 
out of gratitude for the many pleasant thoughts, the anxious hopes, 
and tender remembrances, it excited in us. Those who have ex- 
perienced the effects that long absence, and extreme distance from 
their native country, produce on the mind, will readily conceive 
the pleasure such a trifling incident gave us." 

202. The relations in consequence of which association 
takes place, are either essential or accidental. 

203. Among the essential relations, the m^st remarkable 
appear to be, 1. Resemblance ; 2. Analogy ; 3. Contrariety ; 
4. Mutual Dependence; as of cause and effect, premises 
and conclusion, means and end, and the like. 

204. The accidental relations, or the sources of associa- 
tion, seem chiefly reducible to the circumstance of the two 
objects of thought having been presented to the mind to- 
gedier; or from what the philosophers call the contiguity of 
lime and place, in consequence of which we are led after- 



86 Ji Grammar of Logic. book n. 

wards to think of them at the same time, and to conceive 
some real connection between them. 

I. Essential Relations, sources of jisssociation. 

205. (i.) That resemblance is a natural species of rela- 
tion, and leads us to connect together the objects of our 
thoughts, is matter of the most familiar observation. 

Ilhis. It is our proneness to trace out this kind of relation, that 
leads us to give generic names to certain classes of objects ; such 
as, animals, trees, stones, and other things that engage our attention. 
This was fully illustrated in the last chapter, and so powerfuly are 
we prompted to this exercise of our faculties, that we are in much 
greater danger of supposing resemblances between objects which 
are essentially different, than of not discovering a resemblance 
where it really exists. The gratification, however, which nature 
has attached to the exercise of this act of the mind, is of the great- 
est advantage in promoting our knowledge ; for by continually 
seeking to discover new points of likeness in the objects of nature, 
we are led to reduce them to a few simple classes, and to discover 
the general laws by which their phenomena are regulated. 

206. Many of the pleasures of taste may be ascribed to 
the gratification accompanying the discovery of resem- 
blance. 

lllus. Thus, in comedy, much of the pleasure of an audience ari- 
ses from the resemblance they discover in the sentiment, the action, 
and the business of the piece, with what they have already heard, 
or seen, or engaged in themselves. 

207. The merit of ivit appears to be justly placed in tra- 
cing remote and unexpected resemblauces among the ob- 
jects of our thoughts, which, from their novelty and singu- 
larity, are calculated to excite admiration. (See Art. 178. 
Illus. 1 and 2.) 

Illus. Sublimity elevates, beauty charms, wit diverts : the first- 
enraptures and dilates the soul : the second diffuses over it serene 
delight ; the third tickles the fancy and throws the spirits into an a- 
greeable vibration. And the limning of wit differs from rhetorical 
painting in two respects : one is, that the latter requires not only a 
resemblance in that particular on which the comparison is founded, 
but demands also a general similitude in the nature and quality of 
that which is the basis of the imagery, to that which is the theme 
of discourse : whereas the former, though requiring an exact like- 
ness in the first particular, demands, in the second, a contrariety 
rather, or remoteness. Rhetorical painting, in respect of dignity, 
or the impression it would make upon the mind, brings together 
things homogeneous ; — thus, whatever has magnificence, must be 
pourtrayed by whatever is magnificent ; objects of importance by 
objects of importance ; such as have grace, by things graceful. 
The limning of wit, like an enchantress, exults in reconciling con- 
tradictions, and in hitting on that special light and attitude, where- 



chap. vii. Of the Associatio7i of Ideas. 87 

in you can discover an unexpected similarity in objects which, at 
first sight, appear the most dissimilar and heterogeneous : thus high 
and low are coupled, humble and superb, momentous and trivial, 
oommon and extraordinary. (~Ex. Art. 222. J 

Corol. Wit, therefore, implies a power of calling up at pleasure 
the ideas which it combines, and the entertainment it affords is 
founded on the surprise it creates ; for a bon mot pleases more in 
conversation than in print, and premeditated wit never fails to dis- 
gust ; and he who sports a bon mot at the game of cross purposes doth 
not fail to create amusement; but, in such cases, our pleasure 
seems chiefly to arise from the surprise we feel at so extraordinary 
si coincidence, between a question and an answer coming from per- 
sons who had no direct communication with each other. 

208. The pleasing effect of simile, poetical allusion, met- 
aphor, and allegory, also arises, in a great measure, from 
the same cause ; although, very generally, in all these cases, 
the principle of relation, or association, is rather reducible 
to analogy than to resemblance : as there is more room for 
ingenuity and the exercise of fancy, in tracing a similarity 
of effects or general consequences, which constitutes an an- 
alogy, than in discovering a mere likeness, or precise iden- 
tity. 

Illus. In the case of poetical imagination, it is the association of 
ideas that supplies the materials out of which the combinations are 
formed ; and when such an imaginary combination is become famil- 
ial' to the mind, it is the association of ideas that connects its differ- 
ent parts together, and unites them into one whole. 

Corol. 1. The association of ideas, therefore, although perfectly 
distinct from the power of imagination, is immediately and essen- 
tially subservient to all its exertions. 

2. A man, whose habits of association present to him a number 
of resembling or analogous ideas, for illustrating or embellishing a 
subject, we call a man of fancy : — it is therefore the province of 
fancy to collect materials for the imagination ; and, consequently, 
the latter power presupposes the former, while the former does «ot 
necessarily suppose the latter : — but for an effort of imagination 
other powers are necessary, as of taste and of judgment, without 
which nothing can be produced that will be a source of pleasure to 
others. The power of fancy supplies the poet with metaphorical 
language, and with all the analogies which are the foundation of his 
allusions ; but it is the power of imagination that creates the com- 
plex scenes he describes, and the fictitious characters he delineates. 
Hence, to fancy, we apply the i pithets of rich and luxuriant ; to 
imagination those of beautiful and sublime. 

209. Resemblance of sound is one pretty copious source 
of this kind of gratification. This resemblance is found in 
the structure of modern verse, which, in most European 
languages, has not only the accompaniment of rhythm, or a 
measured number of long and short, or emphatic and unem- 



88 A Grammar of Logic. book n. 

phatic syllables ; but likewise that of rhyme, or a recurrence 
of resembling sounds at the termination of its lines. 

Obs. This accompaniment of verse was rejected by the poets of 
Greece and Rome, which seems to have arisen from its being 1 con- 
sidered as of no value, on account of the great facility with which it 
might have been accomplished in the ancient languages. But 
rhyme, as I have sufficiently shewn in my Grammar of Rhetoric, ap- 
pears to have been adopted in the poetical compositions of our 
Gothic forefathers ; and it is likewise found in the poetry of various 
Eastern nations, as well as of the Indian tribes ; so that it is a source 
t>f gratification evidently founded in the natural constitution of 
man. 

£10. The alliteration which is so common in poetry and 
proverbial sayings, seems to arise, partly, at least, from as- 
sociations of ideas founded on the accidental circumstance 
of two words which express them beginning with the same 
letter. 

Example 1. But thousands die, without or this or that, 
Die ; and endow a college, or a cat. 
• Pope's Epist. 

2. Ward tried on puppies and the poor his drop. 

Id. Imit. or Hohace. 

3. Puffs, powders, patches ; bibles, billet-doux. 

Rape of the Lock. 

21 1. The pun or paronomasia, which hath been so gene- 
rally decried, and yet so universally practised, consists in 
nothing more than employing a word which is ambiguous 
either in sense or sound, and of which both the meanings 
are suggested at once, by the way in which it is used. It 
gratifies, therefore, as an example of a newly discovered re- 
semblance. 

Example. The French call this figure jeu de mots ,• and the fol- 
lowing examples are puns from Milton : " Which tempted our at- 
tempt." Pah. Lost, B. I. "To begin at the Almighty's throne,, 
beseeching or besieging." B. V. 

Obs. The gravity of that man is not to be envied who believes the 
assertion of Lord Chesterfield, that " genuine wit never made any 
man laugh since the creation of the world;" — for, banishing that 
noisy and convulsive agitation which is excited by the ludicrous, 
genuine wit, (and there is none such without some mixture of hu- 
mour) does unquestionably create a smile of surprise and wonder, 
appropriated to its flashes. 

212. (u.) Analogy is a copious source of combination 
among our thoughts. It may be denned a similarity, or 
correspondence, not of the oojects of thoughts themselves,, 
but of their general effects or consequences. (See Art, 74> 
and Mm.) 



chap. vir. Of the Association of Ideas. 89 

Illus. Thus, the spring - of the year, or the morning 1 of the day, 
Suggests to our thoughts the period of infancy, or youth ; as winter, 
or evening - , is naturally associated with old ag-e. The mind is prone 
to trace out analogies, which are, after all, but resemblances of a. 
particular kind ; and, in many cases, it may fancy them to exist 
without any real foundation. Of this we have the most remarkable 
example in the so generally conceived analogy between the pro- 
perties of body and those of mind ("Art. 83.) ; the erroneousness 
of which we have already had occasion to remark. ( Corol. Art. 85.) 

213. The relations observable in the effusions of wit, in 
poetical allusion, simile, metaphor, and allegory, belong 
rather to the combinations of analogy, than to those of re- 
semblance ; and in tracing the former there is much more 
ingenuity than in tracing the latter. 

Ulus. Thus, the well known similitude of Hudibras, 
" And now like lobster boil'd, the morn, 
From black to red, began to turn." — 

exhibits an analogy certainly very remote from common apprehen- 
sion. (See Art. 178. Illus. 1.) 

214. An allusion pleases, by presenting a new and a beau- 
tiful image to the mind. The analogy or resemblance be- 
tween this image and the principal subject, is agreeable of 
itself, and is indeed necessary to furnish an apology for the 
transition which the writer makes, but the pleasure is won- 
derfully heightened, when the new image thus presented is 
a beautiful one. 

Illus. The following allusion, from one of Home's tragedies, seems 
to unite every excellence : 

Hope and fear alternate, sway'd his breast ; 

Like light and shade upon a waving field, 

Coursing eacli other, when the flying clouds 

Now hide, and now reveal, the Sun. 
Here the analogy is perfect ; not only between light and hope, and 
between darkness and fear; but between the rapid succession of 
light and shade, and the momentary impulses of these opposite emo- 
tions ; while, at the same time, the new image which is presented 
to us, recals one of the most pleasing and impressive incidents in 
rural scenery ; namely, 

Light and shade upon a waving field, 
Coursing each other, when the flying clouds 
Now hide, and now reveal, the Sun. 

215. The discovery of such analogies has the twofold 
merit of embellishing and illustrating a subject; and they 
are therefore, with propriety, introduced, not only into the 
amusing kinds of composition, but also into those of the 
e;rave and didactic form. 

9 



90 A Grammar of Logic. book h; 

Illus. The following' are happy instances of the effects of such 
well chosen analogies, though the writings in which they occur are 
not professedly didactic. 

Example 1. To endeavour to work upon the vulgar with fine 
sense, is like attempting to cut blocks of marble with a razor. — 
Pope. 

2. Did you ever observe one of your clerks cutting his paper with 
a blunt knife ? Did you ever know the knife to go the wrong 1 way ? 
Whereas, if you had used a razor, or a penknife, you had odds against 
you of spoiling the whole sheet. — Swift. 

The Dean very happily employs this allusion to illustrate the di- 
versity between genius and ordinary useful abilities. 

216. The pleasure we receive from analogy arises very 
much from the illustration which it affords of the author's 
ideas. 

Illus. Thus Cicero, and after him Locke, in illustrating the diffi- 
culty of attending- to the subjects of our consciousness, have com- 
pared the mind to the eye, which sees every object around it, but is 
invisible to itself. To have compared the eye, in this respect, to 
the mind, would have been absurd. 

Again, Pope's comparison of the progress of youthful curiosity, in 
the pursuits of science, to that of a traveller among the Alps, owes 
all its beauty to this — the Alps furnish only the illustration of the 
allusion, not the original subject. 

217. Allusions from material objects, both to the intellec- 
tual and the moral worlds, are found chiefly in compositions 
written under the influence of some particular passion, or 
which are meant to express some peculiarity in the mind of 
the author. 

Illus. Thus, a melancholy man, who has met with many misfor- 
tunes in life, will be apt to moralize on every physical event, and 
every appearance of nature ; because his attention dwells more 
habitually on human life and conduct than on the material objects 
around him. 

Example. This is the case with the banished duke, in Shakes- 
peare's " As you like it," who, in the language of the poet, 

" Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, 
Sermons in stones, and good in every thing." 

But this is plainly a distempered state of mind ; and the allusions 
please, not so much from the analogies they present, as by the pic- 
ture they give of the character of the person to whom they have 
occurred. 

218. An analogy of the most remote kind, consisting 
merely in the general effect produced upon the mind, is ex- 
pressed in the following beautiful similitude of Ossian. 

Example. The music of Carryl was like the memory of joys that 
are past ; plea sant and mournful to the soul. 



•chap. xu. Of the Association of Ideas. 91 

219. (in.) Contrariety or contrast, is also a common 
source of combination among our ideas. 

tllus. 1. Thus, the darkness of night, induces us to think of the 
splendour of day ; and winter's cold turns our thoughts to the heat 
of summer. 

2. It was contrariety that associated in the mind of Xerxes, the 
melancholy idea of mortality and dissolution, with the prospect of 
his millions in the pride of activity and military splendour ; when he 
lamented that, in a short period of time, not one of them would be 
found upon the earth. 

220. The associating principle of contrast is calculated to 
suggest the finest poetical transitions. 

I'us.l.Thus, in Goldsmith's Traveller, the transitions are managed 
with consummate skill ; and yet, how different from that logical 
method winch would be suited to a philosophical discourse on the 
State of society in the different parts of Europe. Thus, after des- 
cribing the effeminate and debased Romans, the poet proceeds to 
he Swiss : — 

My soul turn from them — turn we to survey 
"Where rougher climes a nobler race display. 
And, after painting some defects in the manners of this gallant but 
unrefined people, his thoughts are led to those of the French : — 
To kinder skies, where gentler manners reign, 
I turn — and France displays her bright domain. 
2. The transition which occurs in the following lines, seems to be 
suggested by the accidental mention of a word ; and is certainly one. 
of the happiest in our language : — 

Heavens ! how unlike their Belglc sires of old ! 
Hough, poor, content, ungovernably bold ! 
War in each breast, and freedom on eacli brow. 
How much unlike the sons of Britain now ! — 

Fir'd at the sound, my genius spreads her wing, 

And flies where Britain courts the western spring-. 

221. This bias of the mind for contrast, in its association 
of ideas, is likewise eminently conducive to the advance- 
ment of our knowledge ; for it leads us to inquire in what 
respects the various objects of nature differ from one anoth 
er, as well as wherein they agree ; and thus stimulates us to 
acquire an accurate knowledge of their properties. 

Note. The student may refer back to the illustrations of Articles 
164, 166, and 168, which, though illustrative of general conceptions, 
stimulate us to acquire an accurate knowledge of the properties or 
attributes of nature that differ from one another, or agree in general 
and characteristic particulars. 

222. The relation of contrariety enters pretty largely into 
fhe allusions of wit, in conjunction with those of resemblance 



&2 A Grammar of Logic. book it 

ot analogy ; for this obvious reason, that the combinations 
of wit must not be readily discoverable ; in other words, 
they must partake both of resemblance or analogy, and of 
contrariety. 

Ilhis. That species of wit which constitutes the ludicrous, exhib- 
its a due share of this mixture of resemblance and contrast ; for, 
according' to the most legitimate analysis of the ludicrous, it con- 
sists in a mixture of relation and contrariety; or of incongruity in 
the parts of an object, or assemblage of related objects, flllus. 
Art. 207. J 

Example. In the following- spirited similitude of Pope, the parent 
of the celestials is contrasted by the daughter of night and chaos; 
heaven by Grub-street ; gods by dunces ; and besides, the parody 
which it contains on a beautiful passage of Virgil, adds particular 
lustre to this aggrandisement of little things, or mock majestic. 
As Berecynthia, while her offspring vie 
In homage to the mother of the sky, 
Surveys around her in the blest abode, 
An hundred sons, and every son a god :* 
Not with less glory mighty Dulness crovvn'd, 
Shall take thro' Grub-street her triumphant round ; 
And her Parnassus glancing o'er at onee, 
Behold an hundred sons, and each a dunce. 

2&3. (iv.) Mutual dependence is the fourth natural 
source of connection among the objects of our thoughts 
which we enumerated. If we find one occurrence or phe- 
nomenon constantly succeeded by another, it is extremely 
natural that the one should be suggested by the other to 
our minds. On the same principle, the notion of means, 
employed, suggest the end which they are designed to 
accomplish. 

Him. 1. Thus, when we observe the labours of the husbandman,, 
we naturally think of the harvest that is to ensue ; and the study 
of an argument, or a piece of reasoning, leads to the consideration 
of the conclusion or conviction which it tends to produce. 

2. To this source of combination we, in a great measure, owe 
our desire to discover the hidden causes of the phenomena of na- 
ture, or the established dependence which these have upon one 
another. The philosopher accomplishes this by long and patient 
study of nature herself; but the illiterate are sufficiently ready to 
assign causes for whatever they see, though experience tells then* 

* The passage in Virgil is this : 

Felix prole virum, qualis Berecynthia mater 
Invehitur curru Phrygias turritu per urbes, 
Laeta deiim partu, centum coniplexa nepotes, 
Omjics calicolas, omues supera alta tencntes. 

iEXEIDO.? 



ohap. vii. Of the Association of Mem. 9£ 

that their want of knowl edge is a copious source of error in this 
field of speculation. And, to this ignorance of the real dependence 
of events upon each other, and a proneness to admit a connection 
where none really exists, must we ascribe the many superstitious 
observances which prevail among the vulgar, and still more among 
savage nations. 

II. Accidental Relations, or Sources, of Association. 
224. We not only connect the objects of our thoughts to- 
gether according to those essential and natural relations, 
which we observe among them, but also in consequence ot 
the mere accidental circumstances of their having been pre- 
sented to the mind together. [Art. 204.) 

Illus. " We agreed," says Cicero, in the introduction to the fifth 
book definibus, " that we should take our afternoon's walk in the 
academy, as, at that time of the day, it was a place where there 
was no sort of company. Accordingly, at the hour appointed, wc 
went to Piso's. We passed the time in conversing on different 
matters during our short walk from the double gate, till we came 
to the academy, that justly celebrated spot; which, as we wished, 
we found in perfect solitude. I know not, said Piso, whether it be 
a natural feeling, or an illusion of the imagination founded on habit, 
that we are more powerfully affected by the sight of those places 
which have been much frequented by illustrious men, than when 
we either listen to the recital, or read the detail, of their great 
actions. At this moment I feel that emotion which I speak of. I 
see before me the perfect form of Plato, who was wont to dispute 
in this very place ; these gardens not only recal him to my memory, 
but present his very person to my senses. I fancy to myself that 
here stood Speusippus ; there Xenocrates, and here, on this bench, 
sat his diciple Polemo. To me our ancient senate-house seems peo- 
pled with the like visionary forms; for, often, when I enter it, the 
shades of Scipio, of Cato, and of Lselius, and, in particular, of my 
venerable grandfather, rise to my imagination. In short, such is 
the effect of heal situation in recalling associated ideas to the mind, 
that it is not without reason, some philosophers have founded on 
this principle a species of artificial memory." 

Obs. The student will please to observe, that the foregoing 
illustration shows clearly the difference, also, between the effect 
of a perception and an idea, in awakening associated thoughts and 
feelings. 

225. This law of association is manifestly of the greatest 
utility in promoting the exercise of memory ; and, indeed, 
spontaneous or involuntary memory, seems entirely to 
depend on those associations which the mind has previ- 
ously formed, whether according to natural or accidental 
relations. 

Illus. After time has in some degree reconciled us to the death 
of a friend, how wonderfully are we affected the first time we 
enter the house where he lived ! — Every thing we see ; the apart- 

9* 



94 A Gramma i' of Logic. book h 

ment where he studied ; the chair upon which he sat, recal to us 
the happiness which we have enjoyed together ; and we should 
feel a sort of violation of that respect we owe to his memory, to 
engage in any light or indifferent discourse when such objects are 
before us. " That man," says Dr. Johnson, " is little to be envied, 
whose patriotism would not gain force on the plain of Marathon, 
or whose piety would not grow wanner among the ruins of Iona." 

226. On account of their unlimited range, the accidental 
or merely arbitrary combinations, are extensively useful to 
the memory ; and what is called mechanical artificial me- 
mory, is founded entirely upon these combinations. (See 
lllus. Art. 224.) 

Illus. It is, in general, a merely arbitraiy relation that subsists be- 
tween the sign and the thing signified ; as between the letters of the 
alphabet, and the sounds of which they are expressive ; as well as 
between these sounds, or the various words of a language, and the 
thoughts which they are intended to denote. Thus, the whole 
fabric of language, whether oral or written, rests upon that law of 
the human constitution, whereby things, which are repeatedly pre- 
sented to the mind together, are afterwards suggested, the one by the 
other. The same ma}' be said of the symbols of the algebraist; the 
notes of the musician ; and various other like signs. 

227. Associations, which are merely arbitrary, appear to 
operate upon the mind with fully as much power as those 
which are founded in nature. 

Illus. The well know effect of the national air, called " Rans »es 
Vaches," upon the Swiss regiments, in foreign lands, in exciting 
what is emphatically called the maladie du pays, furnishes a very 
striking illustration of the peculiar power of a perception, or of an 
impression on the senses, to awaken associated thoughts and feel- 
ings. And I cannot here omit to mention an anecdote of my late 
venerable and worthy friend, Adam Callendar, who in his younger 
days had served as an officer in India. A Highland regiment had 
&een ordered up the country, and on the parade, the bag-piper play- 
ed the famous air of " Lochaber no more." The effect was not anti- 
cipated even by the piper. The sensibilities of his companions were 
awakened, and the very man who could rush upon death in all the 
fonns of battle, refused to go, as they thought, further from home ; 
and the governour-general had too much good sense to call this 
maladie du pays by the ungracious name of mutiny. In the Penin- 
sula, during the late war, the piper of a Highland regiment was 
struck in the leg with a bullet, and could not stand, yet, regardless of 
[lis wound, did he seat himself on his knapsack, and cheer his com- 
rades to the charge with the martial tune of " Up and War them a' 
Willie." It would be an insult to this brave man's virtues, to in- 
quire, whether he had associated the idea of victory with his " spirit? 
stirring lay." (See Illus. Art. 142.) 

228. The consequences of these arbritrary associations 
are sometimes exceedingly whimsical ; of wliich Locke 
records two remarkable instances. 



o«a#. vii. Of the Association of Ideas. 95 

Illits. 1. The first is, of a person perfectly cured of madness, by a 
very harsh and offensive operation. The gentleman, who was thus 
recovered, with great sense of gratitude and acknowledgment, 
owned the cure, all his life after, as the greatest obligation he could 
have received ; but, whatever gratitude and reason suggested to 
him, he could never bear the sight of the operator. This has an 
illustrious parallel ! to which it is sufficient to allude. 

2. The second instance is of a young gentleman, who having 
learned to dance, and that to great perfection, but there happened 
so stand an old trunk in the room where he learned, and the idea of 
this remarkable piece of household stuff had so mixed itself with 
the turns and steps of his dances, that, though in that chamber he 
could dance excellently well, yet it was oidy while the trunk was 
there ; nor could he perform well in any other place, unless that, 
or some such other trunk, had its due position in the room. 

229. The facility with which ideas are associated in the 
mind, is very different in different individuals ; a circum- 
stance this, which lays the foundation of remarkable varie- 
ties among men, both in respect of genius and character. 
In the female mind, ideas seem to be more easily associated 
together than in the minds of men. 

Corol. Hence the liveliness of their fancy, and the superiority 
they possess in epistolary writing, and in those kinds of poetry, in 
which the principal recommendations are, ease of thought and ease 
of expression, delicacy of sentiment and acuteness of feeling. 
Hence, too, the facility with which they contract or lose habits, and 
accommodate their minds to new situations. Hence, too, the dis- 
position they have to that species of superstition which is founded 
on accidental combinations and circumstances. 

Example. " I remember," says Dr. Reid, " many years ago, a 
white ox was brought into the country, of so enormous a size, that 
people came many miles to see him . There happened, some months 
after, an uncommon fatality among- women in child-bearing. Two 
such uncommon events following one another, gave a suspicion of 
their connection ; and occasioned a common opinion, among the 
country people, that the white ox was the cause of this fatality. 

Obs. How silly and ridiculous soever this opinion was, it sprung 
from the same root in human nature, on which all natural philoso- 
phy grows, namely, an eager desire to find out connections in things ; 
and a natural, original, and unaccountable propensity to believe, 
that the connections which we have observed in time past, will con- 
tinue in time to come. 

230. To the law of our constitution, which induces us to 
form arbitrary connections among the objects of our thoughts, 
are due many of the errors and prejudices of the human 
mind in the judgments and decisions of the moral faculty. 

JVote. The importance of this subject is therefore sufficient to 
justify its separate illustration, which will form the subject of the 
next section. 



96 A Grammar of Logic. book h. 

III. Of the Influence of Association on our various Judg- 
ments. 

231. The influence of arbitrary association in giving a 
bias to our opinions and judgments, appears to divide itself 
into three heads : 

First, As it affects the decisions of Taste. 
Secondly, As it affects the speculative Ojrinions of man- 
kind. 

Thirdly, As it influences our moral Judgments. 

First, as it affects the Decisions of Taste. 

232. To the influence of association in regulating the 
decisions of taste, is to be ascribed the approbation which 
we bestow upon the dress, pronunciation, language, and 
manners of the great and the fashionable. 

Illus.l. It is not any intrinsic excellence in the mode itself that 
causes our approbation, because when it ceases to be the fashion, 
we cease to approve it ; and bestow our approbation on some 
other mode that now comes to be sanctioned by the adoption of the 
great. 

2. The pronunciation or language of the court, may frequently 
be inferior, in real merit, to that of the provinces ; but the latter is 
held disreputable, because associated with the ideas of coarseness 
and vulgarity, while the former is considered reputable on account 
of the contrary association. (See my Grammar of Rhetoric, Book 
II. in which the nature and character of the use which gives law to 
language is fully examined.) 

Corol. Thus, the cause of our approbation of whatever is called 
fashionable, is to be sought in the principle of association alone. 

233. The effect of arbitrary association in matters of 
taste, is still more strongly evinced in the permanent char- 
acter which it frequently gives to the taste of a nation. 

Mas 1. Thus, the Chinese love a foot, in their women, so small 
as to be scarcely of any use in walking, for no other reason than 
this — they have associated with a small foot the notion of delicacy 
and eleg-ance ; while they despise a foot of the just proportions 
which nature gives it, because, in their minds, it is associated with 
mean and vulgar qualities. 

2. The same principle serves to explain, why in Holland, France, 
and indeed in most parts of the world, a style of gardening prevails, 
which the better taste of Englishmen condemns as stiff and unnatu- 
ral. In those countries the efforts of skill, artifice, and labour, have 
become associated with a garden. In Holland, the more visible the 
exertion of these is rendered, the more admirable, the more beauti- 
ful, nay, perfect, is the work rendered. At Versailles, Frenchmen 
are delighted with the profusion of parterres, terraces, alleys, foun- 
tains, statues, formal shrubs, artificial cascades, and grottos, trees 
whose foliage is clipped into many fantastic shapes, and hedges 



ghap. vii. 6>f the Association of Ideas. 97 

drcst latterly and altitudinally, like to so many regiments of rifle? 
men on parade. 

234. The influence of arbitrary association is also mani- 
fested in the high value that we set upon the compositions 
with which we have been familiarized in early youth. 

Ilhts. These are connected, in our minds, with a variety of plea- 
sing occurrences winch have happened at that period ; and, there- 
fore, acquire a value in our estimation, which they do not intrinsi- 
cally possess. Thus Addison himself, though so acute a critic, 
under the bias of this natural prepossession, could find every beau- 
ty of Homer or Virgil in the ancient ballad of Chevy Chace, of 
which, undoubtedly, the principle merit is a native and unadorned 
simplicity. (See Spectator, Nos. 70 and 74.) 

235. It is upon a similar principle, that the compositions 
of celebrated authors come to be considered as perfect mo- 
dels of imitation ; and their very defects are exalted into 
beauties, on acccount of their being so closely combined 
with those parts of their works which are justly entitled to 
our admiration. 

Illus. Few things have tended more to retard the progress of 
genuine taste, than this superstitious veneration for great names. 
In this way the dictates of nature have been made to yield to 
authority : and the practice of an eminent writer has passed into a 
law, which none violates with impunity. Hence tire necessity 
that some literary men have conceived themselves under, of choos- 
ing models on which to form their style and sentiment, as much 
so as the architect, who would build a magnificent palace, follows 
the Grecian or Roman style of his art ; or as a painter selects for 
his study the best masters of the Flemish, the Italian, or the 
French schools. Bossu, a celebrated French critic, can find no 
better foundation for the numerous rules which he has given, than 
the practice of Homer or Yirgil, supported by the authority of 
Aristotle. " Strange," says Lord Kaimes, "that in so long a work, 
the concordance or disconcordanee of these rules with human 
nature, should never once have entered his thoughts." 

Corel. The decisions of the faculty of taste have their founda- 
tion in the original constitution of man ; and, as science diffuses 
her genial influence, the standard of true taste comes gradually 
to be ascertained ; therefore, the cultivation of philosophical cri- 
ticism must progressively dissipate the prejudices which are so 
apt to warp our decisions in matters of taste, and correct the 
influence of arbitrary association. 

Secondly, as it affects the speculative Opinions of Mankind. 

236. Casual association unduly influences many of our 
speculative opinions and conclusions of reasoning. 

I litis. The association of ideas, says Mr. Stewart, has a tendency 
to warp our speculative opinions chiefly in the three following 
ways, 



98 A Grammar of Logic. book is. 

JFirst, by blending together in our apprehensions things which 
are really distinct in their nature, so as to introduce perplexity and 
error into every process of reasoning in which they are involved. 

Secondly, by misleading us in those anticipations of the future 
from the past, which our constitution disposes us to form, and 
which are the great foundation of our conduct in life. 

Thirdly, by connecting in the mind erroneous opinions, with 
truths which irresistibly command our assent, and which we feel 
to be of importance to human happiness. 

237. First. The association of ideas has a tendency to 
warp our speculative opinions, by blending together in our 
apprehensions things which are really distinct in their na- 
ture, so as to introduce perplexity and error into every 
process of reasoning in which they are involved. 

Illus. 1. This branch of the subject embraces our notions of 
colour and extension. The former of these words expresses that 
which is the cause of a sensation in the mind ; the latter denotes a 
quality of an external object ; so that there is, in fact, no more' 
connection between the two notions than between those of pain 
and solidity ; and yet, in consequence of our always perceiving 
extension, at the same time at which the sensation of colour is 
excited in the mind, as when we look upon an extended verdant 
plain, we find it impossible afterwards to think of that sensation, 
without conceiving extension along with it. 

2. Another intimate association is formed in every mind between 
the ideas of space and time. When we think of an interval of du- 
ration, we always conceive it analogous to a line, and we apply the 
same language to both subjects. Hence the terms, long and short 
time, as well as long and short distarice. Now, this apprehended 
analogy is obviously founded on the association between the ideas 
of space and time, arising from our always measuring the one by 
the other. 

Example. We measure time by motion, and motion by extension. 
In an hour, the hand of the clock moves over a certain space ; in 
two hours, over double the space ; and so on. Hence the ideas of 
space and time become intimately united, and we apply to the 
latter the words lo?ig and short, before and after, in the same man- 
ner as to the former. 

Illus. 3. From an accidental association of ideas, arises also the 
apprehended analogy between the relation which the different 
notes in the scale of music bear to each other ; and from a similar 
apprehended analogy arises the relation of superiority and inferiori- 
ty in point of position, among material objects. 

Carol. In the instances which have now been mentioned, our 
habits of combining the notions of two things, become so strong, 
that we find it impossible to think of the one without thinking, at 
the same time, of the other. Hence, we may easily conceive the 
manner in which the association of ideas has a tendency to mislead 
the judgment, except the mind be accustomed to those discrimina- 
tions which science requires, and which will not suffer it to he 
imposed on by that confusion of ideas which warps the judgments 
of the multitude in moral, religious, and political inquiries. 



•ifAP. vii. Of the Association vf Ideas. 99 

238. Secondly. The association of ideas is a source of 
speculative error, by misleading us in those anticipations 
of the future from the past, which are the foundation of our 
conduct in life. 

Hlvs. 1. The great object of philosophy is to ascertain the laxv$ 
which regulate the succession of events both in the physical and in 
the moral worlds ; in order that, when called upon to act in any par- 
ticular combination of circumstances, we may be enabled to antici- 
pate the probable course of nature from our past experience, and to 
regulate our conduct accordingly. Nature has not only given all 
men a strong disposition to remark, with attention and curiosity, 
those phenomena which have been observed to happen nearly at 
the same time ; but has beautifully adapted, to the uniformity of her 
own operations, the laws of association in the human mind. By 
rendering contiguity in time one of our associating principles, she 
has conjoined together in our thoughts, the same events which we 
have found conjoined in our experience, and has thus accommoda- 
ted (without any effort on our part) the order of our ideas to that 
scene in which we are destined to act. 

2. The laws of nature, which it is most material for us to know, 
are exposed to the immediate observation of our senses ; and 
establish, by means of the principle, of association, a corresponding 
order in our thoughts long before the dawn of reason or reflection. 

3. This bias of the mind to associate events which have been 
presented to it nearly at the same time, is, nevertheless, with all its 
boasted advantages, attended with inconveniences ; for among the 
various phenomena which are continually passing before us, there 
is a great propoilion whose vicinity in time does not indicate a 
constancy of conjunction ; and they who do not distinguish between 
these two classes of connections, will become a prey to that 
superstitious disposition which confounds together accidental and 
permanent connections. Hence the regard which is paid to un- 
lucky days, to unlucky colours, and to the influence of the planets. 

Example. An Indian once found himself relieved of a bodily 
indisposition by a draught of cold water. This man was a second 
time afflicted with the same disorder, and was desirous to repeat 
the same remedy. He applied to a philosopher to be informed 
whether the cure was owing to the water which he had drank, to 
the shell in which it was contained, to the fountain from which it 
was taken, to the particular time of the day, or to the particular age 
of the moon. The philosopher smiled at the Indian's simplicity. 
A juggler, who was by at the time, overhearing what passed, look- 
ed gravely at the sick man, and, with much pomposity, bade him 
repeat the experiment. In order, therefore, to ensure the success 
of the remedy, the Indian very naturally, and very wisely copied, 
as far as he could recollect, every circumstance which accompani- 
ed the first application of the water. He made use of the same 
kind of shell, he drew the water from the same fountain, he held 
his body in the same posture, and he turned his face to the same 
point of the horizon. He recovered a second time. At the time 
of the second experiment, and ever after, all the accidental ciiv 



100 A Grammar of Logic. book w. 

cumstances in which the first experiment was made, were associa« 
ted equally, with the effect produced, in the Indian and in the 
juggler's mind. The fame of the cure was spread far and wide. 
The fountain from which the water was drawn was ever after 
considered as possessed of particular virtues, the shell from which 
it was drank was set apart from vulgar uses, the day on which the 
experiment was made received a new name, and was deemed 
lucky ; the posture of the body, and the point of the horizon in 
which the face was held, were also accounted lucky, for the sake 
of those who might afterwards have occasion to apply the remedy. 

Corol. 1. Here, then, is the source of one specks of superstition 
due to the influence of association ; and it sufficiently proves how 
mankind are misled in those anticipations of the future from the 
past, which are the foundation of their conduct in life. 

2. The reasonings we have now used may be extended also to 
analogous prejudices which warp our opinions respecting the cus- 
toms and manners of our country ; the form and exercise of its 
government ; the execution of its laws, and the administration of 
justice; our manner of life and course of education ; but weakness 
and versatility of mind, and the same facility of association we 
have contemplated in the Indian, are sources of national prejudice 
and national bigotry, among enlightened Europeans. 

239. Thirdly. We have now to consider the third class 
of our speculative errors, arising from the association of 
ideas connecting in the mind erroneous opinions, with 
truths which irresistibly command our assent, and which 
we feel to be of importance to our happiness. 

Illus. We have seen how all the different circumstances which 
accompanied the first administration of a remedy, come to be 
considered as essential to its future success, and are blended to- 
gether in the conceptions of the mind, without any discrimination 
of their relative importance ; and we shall now shew, that whate- 
ver tenets and religious ceremonies men have been taught to 
connect with the religious creed of their infancy, become almost a 
part of their constitution, by being indissolubly united with truths 
which are essential to their happiness, and which they are led to 
reverence and to love with all the best dispositions of the heart. 

Example. A young English officer had saved the life of a Brah- 
min's daughter. The Brahmin grew old and fell sick. On his 
death-bed he exclaimed to the officer, "Is it possible that he to 
whose compassion I owe the preservation of my child, and who 
now sooths my last moments with the consolations of piety, should 
not believe in the god Vistnoit, and his nine metamorphoses !" 

Here we have all the evidence the tiling admits of, that the 
astonishment of the learned and venerable Brahmin was of a piece 
with what the rudest of mankind feel when they see the rites of a 
religion different from their own. The Brahmin seemed to ques- 
tion whether there could be any thing worthy in the mind which 
treated with indifference what awakened in "his own breast all its 
best and sublimest emotions. The peasant views the rites of a re- 



chap. vii. Of the Association of Ideas. 101 

li^ion different from that in which he was educated, with an aston- 
ishment as great as if he saw some flagrant breach of the moral 
duties, or some direct act of impiety to God. 

Carol. What has now been said on the nature of religious 
superstition, may be applied to many oilier subjects; and in 
particular to those political prejudices which bias the judgment 
even of enlightened men in all countries of the world. And with 
this remark we may therefore conclude here, that as in ancient 
Rome, it was regarded as the mark of a good citizen never to des 
pair of the fortunes of the republic ; — so the good citizen of the 
world, the philosopher, and the Christian, whatever may be the 
political, the scientific, and the religious aspect of their own times, 
will never despair of the fortunes ©f the human race ; but will 
act upon the conviction, that prejudice, slavery, and corruption — 
ignorance, error, and speculative mysticism — irreligion, vice, and 
impiety — must gradually give way to truth, liberty, and virtue ; to 
knowledge, good sense, and happiness ; to piety, charity, and be- 
nevolence. 

Thirdly, of the Influence of arbitrary Associations, as it af- 
fects our moral judgment. 

240. Our moral judgments may he modified and even 
perverted to a certain degree, in consequents of the influ- 
ence of arbitrary associations; for there is a fashion, not on 
ly in matters of taste and speculative inquiry, but even in 
morality and religion. 

Illus. In the same manner in which a person who is regarded as 
a model of taste, may introduce, by his example, an absurd or fan- 
tastical dress ; so a man of splendid virtues may attract some es- 
teem also to his imperfections ; and, if placed in a conspicuous situa- 
tion, may render his vices and follies objects of general imitation a- 
mong the multitude. What a libel on human reason ! to be ever 
swayed by the mere influence of casual association, and the false 
shame of avowing ourselves habitually the friends of virtue, be- 
cause knaves have nicknamed such tergiversations, marks of supe- 
rior endowments, and proofs of a mind emancipated from vulgar pre- 
judices. (See Dr. Smith's Theory ofJWoral Sentiments, for the most 
luminous vieivs of this part of our subject. J) 

241. Again, if we examine the moral and religious opin- 
ions which have prevailed in different ages of the world, 
and among people of different climates and nations, we shall 
find a striking diversity in many important particulars. 

Illus. 1. The ancient heathen and the modern savage enjoin us, 
while we do all the good we can to our friends, to be equally ntudious 
to injure our enemies. The milder precepts oJ Christianity, on the 
other hand, exhort us to an unlimited forgiveness of injuries. Among 
the Romans, suicide Vflte a virtue ; ; along Christiai .-, it is .1 crime of 
the deepest dye. The South Sea Islanders, and the ancient Lar~ 

10 



102 Ji Grammar of Logic. book ij. 

demonians, practised theft without scruple ; while by the laws of 
Europe it is punished with imprisonment, banishment, and death. 

2. The heathen and the savage combine the ideas of valour and 
heroism with the revenge of injuries and the destruction of their 
enemies ; and hence deem such conduct as praise-worthy, as gra- 
titude for benefits received. But the more enlightened Christian 
discerns time magnanimity in the forgiveness of injuries ; and just- 
ly accounts it a greater act of heroism to return good for evil, than 
to satisfy the impulse of his vengeance. The heathen looks upon 
suicide as an heroic act ; the better instruction of the Christian 
leads him to consider it as a proof of timidity, as well as a highly 
culpable renunciation of the controul of the supreme power. This 
diversity of opinion proves the extensive influence of the principle 
of association, which, however it may bias, can never totally sub- 
vert the power of the moral sense. (See Chapter XII. of this 
Booh. J 

3. With respect to the practice of theft, so prevalent among cer- 
tain tribes, it may be remarked, that in those countries where it 
has prevailed, property has been considered as of little or no value. 
In the South Sea Islands, the spontaneous bounty of nature renders 
hoarding almost superfluous ; and, in ancient Sparta, the accumula- 
tion of property was positively prohibited. In this latter country, 
too, it was merely the display of skill that sanctioned the theft ; for 
detection was sure to cover the perpetrator with indelible disgrace. 

Corol. Thus, it appeal's, that the diversities which are discovered 
in the moral sentiments of mankind, arise from known laws of the 
human constitution. The basis on which these moral sentiments 
are founded is immutable ; but they may be variously modified, ac- 
cording to circumstances peculiar to the individual. It is thus that 
the language of different tribes assumes a particular character and 
idiom, according to the peculiar circumstances of their situation ; 
but the fundamental principles of grammar continue radically the 
same in all dialects. (T.lus. 1, 2. and Corol. Art. 62.) 

J\'ote. The power of association or- combination, in regulating 
the succession of our ideas, and in directing the transition from one 
object of thought to another, will be examined when we come to 
treat of "Imagination," and "The train of Thought in the Mind." 



CHAPTER VIII. 

OF MEMORY. 

I. Things obvious ivith Regard to Memory. 

242. Memory is the faculty by which the mind has a 
knowledge of what it had formerly perceived, felt or thought. 
(See Illus. Art. 22. and the Illus. to Art 139.) 

Illus. 1 . It is by memory that we have an immediate knowledge 



l-h.vp. via. Of Memory. 103 

of things past. The senses give us information of things only as 
they exist in the present moment ; and this information, if it were 
not preserved by Memory, would vanish instantly, and leave us as 
ignorant as if it had never been. (See Art'. 124. Illus. and Coral.) 

2. Memory must have an object. Every man who remembers, 
must remember something, and that which he remembers is called 
the object of his remembrance. In this, Memory is allied to Per- 
ception, but differs from Sensation, which has no object but the 
feeling itself. (See Art. 125. and its Illus. J 

3. We c:ui distinguish the thing remembered from the remem- 
brance of it. We may remember any thing which we have seen, 
or heard, or known, or done, or suffered ; but the remembrance of 
it is a particular act of the mind which now exists, and of which we 
are conscious. (See Illus. Art. 99.) 

Carol. The object of Memory being something that is past, and 
the object of Perception and of Consciousness something which is 
present ; what now is, cannot be an object of Memory ; neither can 
that which is past and gone be an object of Perception or of Con- 
sciousness. 

243. Memory is always accompanied with the belief of 
that which we remember, as Perception is accompanied 
with the belief of that which we perceive, and Consciousness 
with the belief of that whereof we are conscious. (See Art. 
100. Illus.) 

Illus. This belief, which we have from distinct Memoiy, we ac- 
count real toioxoledge, no less certain than if it was grounded on 
demonstration ; no man in his wits calls it in question, nor will he 
hear any:argument against it. But it cannot be resolved into the 
evidence of sense, or of any process of Memory, but must be stated 
as a peculiar kind of evidence, which we are so constituted as to 
admit of itself, immediately and incontestibly. The testimony of 
witnesses, in causes of life and death, depends upon it, and all the 
knowledge mankind have of past events is built upon this founda- 
tion. (See Illus. 2. Art. 116.) 

Obs. There are cases in which our Memory is less distinct and 
determinate, and where we must frequently allow that it may have 
failed us ; but this does not in the least weaken its credit where it is 
perfectly distinct. 

244. To the exercise of Memory, we appear to be entire- 
ly indebted for the notion of time or duration, for a being, 
destitute of that faculty, could never have possessed that 
notion; and without Memory, he would have no idea of 
such a thing aa motion, for motion is a successive change of 
place, and pre-supposes the notion of succession, or duration. 

Illus. 1. Memory implies a conception and belief of past dvratiox; 
for it is impossible that we should remember any thing distinctly, 
without believing some interval of duration, more or less, to have 
passed between the time it happened, and the present moment;- 
and, if we had no Memory, we could acquire no notion of duration. 



i,Q4 Jl Grammar of Logic. book tu 

2. Things remembered must be things formerly perceived at 
known. 1 remember the comet of 1811. I must, therefore, have 
perceived it at the time it appeared, otherwise I could not remem- 
ber it. (See Illus. 2. Art. 59.) Our first acquaintance with any 
object of thought cannot therefore be by remembrance ; for Memo- 
ry can only produce a continuance or rene-wal of a former acquaint- 
ance with the thing remembered. 

3. The notion of limited duration which we distinctly remember, 
leads us, by a kind of necessity, to the admission of a duration 
which has no limits — which neither began, nor will have an end. 
In like manner, the notions of limited extension and magnitude, 
which we acquire by the senses, leads to the belief of an unlimited 
extension, or of space which has no bounds. 

4. Thus are acquired the notions of infinite space, and of infinite 
time or eternity. It cannot, however, be pretended, that our finite 
capacities are capable of forming adequate conceptions of that 
which is infinite and unbounded; it can only be said, that tiu re is 
less difficulty in conceiving infinite space, than in conceiving the 
final boundaries of space, or the beginning or end of time. 

245. The remembrance of a past event is necessarily 
accompanied with the conviction of our own existence at 
the time the event happened. 

Illus. I cannot call to my remembrance the death of the amiable 
and lamented Princess Charlotte, that happened a year ngo, without 
a conviction as strong as memory can g'ive, that I, the identical 
person who now remember that mournful event, did then exists 
(See Illus. to Art. 52.) 

Obs. These are principles obvious and certain, of which the 
reader mist judge by what he feels, and they admit no other proof 
but an appeal to his own reflection. 

II. Of Memory as cm original Faculty. 

246. Of our original faculties, of which Memory is 
one, we can give no account, but that they were given us 
by the Author of our being. (See Art. ISO.) 

Illus. 1. The knowledge we have by Memory of things past, 
seems as unaccountable as an immediate knowledge would be of 
things to come. I find in my mind a distinct conception and a firm 
belief of a series of past events, as the battle of Trafalgar, the battle 
of Vittoria : but I know not how this is produced. I call it Memory, 
but this is only giving a name to it : it is not an account of its cause. 
I remember the building of Waterloo Bridge; I have seen hundreds 
of men employed on it, and thousands of blocks of granite used in 
its construction, and I mo-t firmly believe these facts ; but I am 
unable to give any reason of tins belief. I conclude, therefore, that 
it is the inspiration of my Maker that gives me this understanding. 

2. When I believe that I washed my hands and face this morning, 
there appears no necessity in the truth of this, proposition : it might 
be, or it might n«t be. You may distinctly conceive it without 



tatkP. «n. Of Memory. iu5 

believing' it. Eat how do I come to believe it? — I remember it 
distinctly ; and this is all 1 can say about it. But this remembrance 
is an act of my mind. Could this act of my mind have existence if 
the event had not happened? If you can shew that it could not have 
existence you will then have fairly accounted for that belief which. 
we have of what we remember ; but on the other hand, if you 
cannot shew this, allow me still to think that this belief is unac- 
countable, and that we can say no more but that it is the result of 
our constitution. 

Corol. We are so constituted as to have an intuitive knowledge of 
many thing's past ('Art. 47.) ; but we have no intuitive knowledge 
of th^ future. The past was, but now is not ; we only remember 
things past. The future will be, but is not; we can have no re- 
membrance of the future, because we have no knowledge of it. 
We nug-lit perhaps have been so constituted as to have an intuitive 
knowledge of the future ; but not of the past : nor would this con- 
stitution have been more unaccountable tlian the present, though, 
for any thing we know to the contrary, it might be much more in- 
convenient. Had this been the constitution of the human kind, 
they who doubt the prescience of the Deity, or his knowledge of 
things future, would be plunged into an opposite disbelief of admit- 
ting his knowledge of things that are past. How limited then are 
proud man's most comprehensive conceptions ! 

III. Analysis of the Faculty of Memory. 

2,47. The faculty of Memory implies two things : first, a 
capacity of retaining knowledge; anil, secondly, a power 
of recalling that knowledge to our thoughts when we have 
occasion to make use of it. 

Obs. The word Memory is sometimes employed to express the 
rapacity, and sometimes the power. When we speak of a retentive 
memory, we use it in the former sense ; when, of a ready Memory, 
in the latter. 

248. The various particulars which compose our stock of 
knowledge are, from time to time, recalled to our thoughts 
in two ways : sometimes they recur to us spontaneously, or 
at least without any interference on our part ; in other cases, 
they are recalled in consequence of an effort ofivill. 

J\'vte. It would probably be as philosophical to say, Memory is 
either casual or intentional. — Casual, when subjects or thoughts, 
by any connection of their own, recur to the mind. — Intentional, 
when the mind, from design, recals any subject or thought. 

Jlhis. For the former operation of the mind, we have the appro- 
priate name Reminiscence, or Remembrance .• in our language, the 
latter, too, is often called by the name of memory, but is more pro- 
perly distinguished by the word recollection. {Art. 254.) 

249. The operations of Memory relate either to thing* 
and their relations, or to events. 

10* 



tOG A Grammar of Logic. book u„- 

Illus. In the former case, thoughts which have been formerly in 
the mind, may recur to us, but whether, at that time, we have the 
idea of the past suggested or not, there is, doubtless, a certain 
modification of time, because what we remember is past. In the 
latter case, it is more evident, that if we rccal to mind former ob- 
jects of its thoughts, we refer the event to a particular time ; so 
that cf every such act of Memory, the idea of the past is a neces- 
sary concomitant. (See Illus. 1. Art. 245.) 

250. The evidence, or belief, of past existence, which 
always accompanies Memory, {Art. 243.) forms one impor- 
tant distinction between that faculty and association. 

Ilhis. 1. The suggestions which are made by the faculty of Asso- 
ciation alone, impress us with no belief of their reality. In fact, 
the very materials upon which they are employed, if not supplied 
by the immediate perception of the moment, must be furnished by 
the memory, or that faculty which enables us to treasure up past 
knowledge. 

Carol. Thus the power of Association, in its most useful exercise, 
presupposes the power of Memory; and when, during the spon- 
taneous flow of the current of thought, we recognize a combina- 
tion of which we had formerly been conscious, and distinguish it 
from one newly formed, this necessarily implies an exercise of a 
faculty which can distinguish former knowledge from nexv ; which 
is not an attribute of the faculty of Associatio?^ but of the Memory 
alone. 

Illus. 2. In the case of some old men, who retain pretty exactly 
the information which they receive, but are sometimes unable to 
jjecollect in what manner the particulars which they find connected 
together in their thoughts at first came into the mind, whether they 
occurred to them in a dream, or were communicated to them in 
oonversation, we have an example of the power of Association 
operating without any aid from memory. (See Art. 254. Illus. 2. 
and Example.} But in most cases the suggestions of Memory are 
made by means of the combinations previously established among 
our thoughts. 

3. This, however, is but one part of the province of Memory, for, 
as was observed above, {Art. 247.) this faculty implies two things ; 
a capacity of retaining knowledge, and a power of recalling it to 
our thoughts when we have occasion*to apply it to use. The first 
of these is entirely independent of the faculty of Combination ; but 
this faculty is the principal, though not the sole instrument, by which 
the latter purpose is accomplished. 

4. The advantages of this law are thus stated by Mr. Stewart. 
©n the other hand, says he, it is evident that without the associat- 
ing principle, the power of retaining our thoughts, and of recog- 
nizing them when they occur to us, would have been of little use ; 
for the most important articles of our knowledge might have re- 
mained latent in the mind^ even when those occasions presented 
themselves to which they are immediately applicable. 

Carol. In consequence of this law of our nature, not only are all 
our various ideas made to pass from time to time in review before 



tniAP. vm. Of Memory, 107 

us, and to offer themselves to our choice as subjects of meditation ; 
but, when an occasion occurs which calls for the aid of our past ex* 
perience, the occasion itself recals to us all the information upon 
the subject which that experience hath accumulated. 

IV. Varieties of Memory in different Individuals. 

251. Of all our faculties, Memory, is that which nature 
lias bestowed in the most unequal degrees on different in- 
dividuals; but the original disparities are by no means so 
immense, as they seem to be at first view ; and much of this 
diversity is to be ascribed to different habits of Attention, 
and to a difference of selection among the various objects 
and events presented to our curiosity. 

IUus. As the great purpose to which this faculty is subservient, 
is, to enable us to collect and retain, for the future regulation of our 
conduct, the results of our past experience ; it is evident that the 
degree of perfection which it attains in the case of different per- 
sons, must vary; .first, with the facility of making the original ac- 
quisition ; secondly, with the permanence of the acquisition ; and, 
thirdly, with the quickness or readiness with which the individual is 
able, on particular occasions, to apply it to use. 

Corol. The qualities, therefore, of a good Memory are, in the 
first place, to be susceptible ; second!)", to be retentive ,■ and, thirdly, 
to be ready. 

252. Susceptibility and readiness are both connected wi:h 
a facility of associating ideas, according to their more obvi- 
ous relations ; retenliveness or tcnaciousness of Memory, 
depends principally on what is seldom united with this fa- 
cility — a disposition to system and philosophical arrange- 
ment. 

Illus. 1. The more obvious relations which befriend susceptibility 
and readiness, are those of resemblance and of analogy, and the 
casual relations arising from the contiguity of time and place ; the 
philosophical arrangement upon which retentiveness and tenacious- 
ness of Memory depend, has for its basis the relations of cause and 
effect, or of premises and conclusion. 

Obs. This difference in the modes of Association in different men, 
is the foundation of some very striking diversities between them in 
respect of intellectual character. But we have anticipated the 
further illustration of this position in Chapters IV. VI. and VII. to 
which we must therefore refer the reader. 

Illus. 2. Again, our ideas are frequently associated in consequence 
of the associations which take place among their arbitrary signs. 
All the signs by which our thoughts are expressed, are addressed 
either to the eye or to the ear ; and the impressions made on these 
organs at the time when we first receive an idea, contribute to give 
us a firmer hold of it. Visible objects are remembered more easily 
that those of any of our other senses (See Art. 142. Illus.) ; and 



ids A Grammar of Logic. book a.- 

hence it is, that the bulk of mankind are more aided ill their recol- 
lection by the impressions made on the eye, than by those made on 
the ear. But in the philosopher, whose habits of constantly em- 
ploying" words as an instrument of thought, co-operating- with that 
inattention which he is apt to contract to things external, the origi- 
nal powers of recollection and conception with respect to visible 
objects are commonly greatly weakened ; while the power of re- 
taining propositions and reasonings expressed in language is greatly 
strengthened by his habits of abstraction and generalization. 

3. A prejudice has obtained, that a great Memory is scarcely com- 
patible with that acuteness of parts denominated genius ; and the 
effect of this opinion is such, that no one blushes at acknowledging" 
a shortness of Memory, while to be accused of a defect of judgment, 
or a want of penetration, is usually considered a high affront. This 
prejudice, however, appears to be without foundation ; and Me- 
mory, far from being incompatible with genius, seems even to be 
necessary, in its utmost perfection, for those happy exertions of in- 
tellect which confer immortality upon their authors. 

Example. Robert Bloomfield, that completely self-taught genius 
and pleasing poet, composed the latter part of the Jlutumn, and the 
whole of the Winter of his Farmer's Boy, mentally, without ever 
putting pen to paper. Nor was this all ; for he even thoroughly 
corrected and revised this extensive portion of his poem, before he 
ever wrote a word of it ; and this, too, while at work with his fellow 
journeymen, in a garret ; and then, as he himself expressed it, he 
had nothing to do but to write it dotvn ! 

Illus. 4. The following example, on the contrary, justifies the 
foregoing prejudice ; for none who have perused the writings of 
the amusing author of whom we are now to speak, can doubt that 
he possessed genius. 

Example. Mosttaigxe frequently complains, in his writings, of his 
want of Memory ; and he indeed gives many very extraordinary in- 
stances of his ignorance on some of the most ordinary topics of in- 
formation. But it is obvious, as Mr. Stewart justly remarks, that 
this ignorance did not proceed from an original defect of memory, 
but from the singular and whimsical direction which his curiosity 
had taken at an early period of life. " I can do nothing," says 
Mantaigne, "without my memorandum-book; and, so great is my 
difficulty in remembering proper names, that I am forced to call my 
domestic servants by their offices. I am ignorant of the greater 
part of our coins in use ; of the difference of one grain from another, 
botli in the earth and in the granary ; what use leaven is in making 
bread, and why wine must stand sometime in the vat before it ferments. 
When I "have an oration to speak, of any considerable length, I am 
reduced to the miserable necessity of getting it, word for word, by 
heart." — Malebranche doubted the veracity of Montaigne on these 
matters; Mr. Stewart acquits him of affectation ; but whoever has 
seen the statue of Montaigne in the vestibule of the " Institute of 
France," will not question the credibility of his assertions, provided 
the sculptor hath fairly chiselled a likeness of the most inanimate 
Fooking mortal, in whom a spark of genius ever shone. 



«hap. Tin, Of Memory. 109 

V. Of the Decay of Memory in old People. 
253. The decay of Memory in old people is a matter of 
familiar observation, as well as that peculiarity with which 
it is usually accompanied ; — namely, that a complete, and 
even minute recollection, usually remains of the events of 
an older date, and the occurrences of early life. 

Illus. 1. The failure of Memory, in regard to recent occurrences, 
is owing 1 to the decay of Attention. From this decay, these occur- 
rences do not make a sufficient impression on the mind to be after- 
wards recollected ; but the associating principle remaining in full 
vigour, and the train of thought continuing to perform its office, 
circumstances which have been already familiarized to the mind are 
still suggested with the wonted accuracy. 

2. The foregoing illustration may be reckoned satisfactory, if 
we understand, by the decay of Memory, not the diminished energy 
of some one particular facidty of the mind, but the relaxed vigour 
of all, or most of the mental faculties, which, like the bodily func- 
tions, being impaired by the approach of old age, are incapable of 
contemplating their respective objects with that degree of force 
which is requisite to their being distinctly remembered afterwards. 
The decay of sensibility and the extinction of passion, which are the 
consequences of old age, likewise powerfully co-operate in produc- 
ing tliis effect, by diminishing tlfe interest which the common oc- 
currences of life are calculated to produce. 

. 254. That kind of Memory which old people possess, gen- 
erally in a state of vigour, and by which circumstances are 
presented spontaneously to the mind, without any voluntary 
effort, has been called Reminiscence or Remembrance; 
while that which requires a more vigorous effort, and is more, 
dependent upon the will of the individual, has been dis- 
tinguished by the name of Recollection. {Art. 248. Note and 
lllus.) 

Illus. 1. The former, as mentioned above, (Art. 250. Illus. 2.) is 
chiefly dependent upon the faculty of Association ; while the latter 
will not be found but where the mind possesses the active exertion 
of the faculty called Attention. The distinction is as old as the days 
of Aristotle,* who remarks, that the brutes possess the first kind of 
Memory, but exhibit no traces of the last, which is therefore a valu- 
able characteristic of man. 

2. This lteminiscence of ideas, formerly impressed on the mind,, 
and forgetfulness of recent ones, is no unusual circumstance attend- 
ing a paralysis, though our physiology is not yet sufficiently advanc- 
ed to account for it. 

Example. Both the foregoing illustrations are corroborated by the 
authority of the late learned Dr. Watson, Bishop of LandaflP: "My 
father," says he in his Memoirs, "had been afflicted with a palsy 
for several years before his death. I have heard him ask twenty 

* Db Memoh, F.T Rf.MIM»C. 



110 Ji Grammar of Logic. book it 

times in a day, What is the name of the lad that is at college ?■ (my 
elder brother) ; and yet he was able to repeat, without a blunder, 
hundreds of lines out of classic authors." 

VI. Of the Improvement of Memory. 

255. The cultivation of so noble a faculty as the Memory, 
is a matter of the highest importance ; at the same time we 
must not expect that any cultivation, how assiduous so ever, 
will altogether make up for natural deficiencies of Memory, 
any more than those of judgment, taste, or any other fac- 
ulty. 

Illus. 1. Of a human Memory improved to no extraordinary pitch, 
how vast is the comprehension ! With what an endless multitude 
of thought is it supplied, by reflection, by reading, by conversation, 
and by a diversified experience ! Things natural ,• as animals, 
vegetables, minerals, fossils; mountains, vallies ; land and water; 
earth and heaven ; the sun, moon, and stars, with their several ap- 
pearances, motions, and periods ; the atmosphere and meteors, 
with all the vicissitudes of the weather ; — things artificial, as towns, 
streets, houses, roads, bridges, and machines, with their various ap- 
pendages ; — abstract notions with regard to truth and falsehood, 
beauty and deformity, virtue and .vice ; — proportions in quantity and 
number ; — religion, commerce, and policy, whereof the brutes 
know nothing, and which are the chief materials of human conver- 
sation. 

2. These are some of the general heads under which may be ar- 
ranged the manifold treasures of human memory ; and under each 
of these heads, what an infinity of individual things are compre- 
hended ! How numerous, for example, are the words of one lan- 
guage ! He who is master of four, must be supposed to retain at 
least two hundred thousand words ; with all the different ways of 
applying them, according to rule, and innumerable passages in books 
to illustrate their meaning. And that four languag-es do not ex- 
ceed the capacity of an ordinary man, will not be denied by those 
who are acquainted with the writings of Sir William Jones ; much 
less if they believe with Pliny and Quinctilian, that Mithridates un- 
derstood two and twenty ! 

256. The utmost that can be expected from any exertion 
of our own, is, to direct the Memory to its proper objects, 
a it in that order and succession, which will most facilitate 
its operation; to remove as much as possible those obstruc- 
tions which are likely to retard the proper action of the 
faculty; and, by a repeated and industrious exertion, to 
bring it to that state of maturity and that degree of energy, 
which; in every human attainment, are so highly promoted 
by exercise. 

Illus. 1. In order successfully to cultivate the Memory, we must 
cultivate the powers of Attention and Association, on which it mainly 



(Jhap. viii. Of Memory. ilj 

depends. And notlung will contribute more to the recollection of 
things at any future period, than clear and distinct conceptions of 
them at the present ; that is to say, when they first become objects 
of our attention ; for vaguely formed and indefinite notions will 
leave no permanent traces on the mind. 

2. When we read, therefore, let us labour to understand clearly 
and precisely our author's meaning ; let us compare what goes before 
with what follows in his work ; let us search for the chai-acteristic 
features of his system, and compare his opinions with those of other 
authors who have treated of the same subject. By this means not 
only the faevdties of Conception and Attention, but the Jieasoning 
powers, will be usefully exercised ; and the best provision will be 
made for a distinct recollection. 

£57. It has been much disputed, whether it be an useful 
exercise to write down those things which we are desirous 
to remember ; but there can be little doubt, that, in some 
cases, this may be exceedingly proper ; in others, not so. 

Illus. To write a great deal cannot be highly useful to the Memo- 
ry ; for the attention is but too apt to be diverted from the matter 
itself, to the mere manual operation ; but it is surely useful to tran- 
scribe certain short passages winch we select, on account of the 
importance or curiosity of the matters they contain, and to. which 
we, by this means, can afterwards conveniently refer. It woidd 
likewise, no doubt, be very useful to write a short abridgment and 
character of any important book we have read ; or at least to state 
the leading tenets of the work, and our opinion of its merits, in a 
few short paragraphs. We should thus come in time to think for 
ourselves — we should form a sort of register of our studies, to which 
we might afterwards refer with the greatest advantage — and we 
would thus improve the faculties of Association and Attention. For 
without comparing together the different parts of an author's work, 
so as to form out of it one consistent whole, and comparing it also 
with the writings of others on the same subject, so as to digest the 
whole into a system, Association wdl not be promoted, Attention 
will not be increased, and all our reading will furnish nothing but a 
desultory collection of ideas scarcely applicable to any useful 
purpose. Professor Porson, who could at will recite any passage 
from the Greek poets, thus speaks : " 1 never remember any thing 
but what I transcribe thee times, or read over six times at the least ; 
and if you will do the same you will have as good a memory ;" and 
his memory was most excellent. 

258. With respect to the mechanical expedients which 
have been proposed for aiding the Memory, it does not 
appear that much real advantage is to be expected from 
them. The loci of the ancients* and the memorial lines of 
the moderns are the chief, of each of which we shall give a 
brief illustration. 

Jlhts. 1. The intention of the celebrated loci, or Topical Memory, 
of the ancient rhetoricians, was to facilitate the recollection of the 



112 A Grammar of Logic. book 1i. 

various heads of an oration, by associating them in the mind with the 
different apartments of a house, or the various houses in a street, 
the precise succession of which had been previously rendered fa- 
miliar to the mind. The subordinate parts of the discourse were to 
be associated with the furniture of the rooms, or the subdivision; of 
the houses; and thus the whole oration whs to be suggested to >he 
Memory with very little effort. The writings of Cicero and Quir.c- 
tilian contain a full account of this mechanical contrivance, which, 
without doubt, is founded on nature. But Quinctilian candidly 
acknowledges that he never received any benefit from this artificial 
kind of Memory. The case was otherwise with Cicero. It has for 
ages fallen into disuse ; but in allusion to it, the heads of a dis- 
course are still called topics, and we continue to say — in Hue first 
place, in the second place, &c. 

Example. Mr. Stewart gives an instance of Topical Memory. It 
is this. A young woman, in a very low rank of life, contrived a 
method of committing to memory the sermons she was accustomed 
to hear, by fixing her attention during the different heads of the 
discourse, on different compartments of the roof of a church, in 
such a manner, as that when she afterwards saw the roof, or recol- 
lected the order in which its compartments were disposed, she recol- 
lected the method which the preacher had observed in treating his 
subject. 

Ilium 2. The memorial lines, or verses, are more useful than the 
method of loci, since by the substitution of the letters of the 
alphabet for the numeral characters, we can easily commit to Me- 
mory certain dates, measures, computations, and other things. 
Gray's JMemoria Technica, a small volume on this artificial help, con- 
tains an ample collection of such memorial verses, There is also a 
small volume by Mr. Jackson, on " a new and improved system of 
Mnemonics, or the Art of Memory, applied to Figures, Chronology, 
Geography, Statistics, History, and Poetry, illustrated with many 
plates." This is an ingenious little book, founded on Watts's 
Improvement of the Mind) and its brevity and perspicuity entitle it 
to notice in every work on, intellectual philosophy. M. Feinagle, 
too, has published a new Art of Memory, adapted to the meanest 
capacity, and its application is rather a source of amusement than 
labour. It possesses all the advantages of the methods which pre- 
ceded its developement, and, as a whole, is perhaps superior to any 
book en this art, that has yei appeared. But this important object, 
it would seem, can be accomplished only by cultivating those exer- 
tions of the mind on which the facidty of Memory depends — name- 
ly, Attention and the Association of Ideas. 



CHAPTER IX. 

OF IMAGINATION. 

259. Imagination is the faculty which wakes a selection 
of qualities and circumstances from a variety of different 



bbap. ix. Of Imagination. 113 

objects, and by combining and disposing these, forms new 
creations of its own. (See Art. 97. No. IX.) 

Oba. 1. Thus, Imagination is distinguished from Abstraction, in 
which we endeavour to generalize. Imagination invests objects 
with all their qualities, real or fictitious: it exerts itself in matters 
which we know to be real, as well as in matters which we invent, or 
believe to be fictitious. ■ (See Chapter VI. on Abstraction, Sections 
ii. and in.) 

2. The distinction between Imagination and Conception, was fully 
drawn in Akticle 141. and its Illustration and Note, to which, there- 
fore, to avoid the tecliousness of repetition, the reader is referred. 

t. Analysis of the Operations of Imagination. 

260. The operations of the faculty of Imagination are 
general, extending to the representation of notions or com- 
binations of thought, as well as of sensible impressions 
originally made on the external organs; and, if we establish 
this, we shall have proved that the province of Imagination 
is not barely limited to objects of sight. 

I litis. 1. Although the greater part of the materials which Ima- 
gination combines, be supplied by the sense of sight, it is never- 
theless indisputable, that our other perceptive faculties also contri- 
bute their share. How man}' pleasing images, says Mr. Stewart, 
have been borrowed from the fragrance of the fields and the melo- 
dv of the groves ; not to mention that sister art, whose magical 
influence over the human frame, it has been, in all ages the high- 
est boast of poetry to celebrate ! In the following passage, even 
the more gross sensations of taste form the subject of an ideal re- 
past, on which it is impossible not to dwell with some complacency ; 
particularly after the perusal of the preceding lines, in which the 
poet describes "the wonders of the torrid zone." 
Bear me, Pomona ! to thy citron groves ; 
To where the lemon and the piercing lime, 
With the deep orange, glowing thro' the green, 
Their lighter glories blend. Lay me reclin'd 
Beneath the spreading tamarind that shakes, 
Fann'd by the breeze, its fever-cooling fruit ; 
Or, stretched amid these orchards of the sun, 
O let me drain the cocoa's milky bowl, 
More bounteous far than all the frantic juice 
Which Bacchus pours ! Nor on its slender twigs 
Low bending, be the pomegranate scorn'd ; 
Nor creeping through the woods, the gelid race 
Of hemes : oft in humble station dwells 
Unboastful worth, above fastidious pomp, 
Witness, thou best Anana, thou the pride 
Of vegetable life, beyond whate'er 
The poets imag'd in the golden age : 

1! 



114 A Grammar of Logic. book h. 

Quick let me strip thee of thy spicy coat, 
Spread thy ambrosial stores, and feast with Jove. 

Thomson's summer. 

Corol. This quotation shews how inadequate a notion of the pro- 
vince of Imagination, (considered even in its reference to the 
sensible world,) we must entertain, if we would limit its operations 
to objects of sight merely. 

261. But the sensible world, in its widest range, is not 
the only field in which Imagination exerts her powers. 
All the objects of human knowledge supply materials to her 
forming hand ; diversifying infinitely the works she produ- 
ces, while the mode of her operation remains essentially 
uniform. 

Illus. 1. Thus the Imagination becomes a bond of association for 
those intellectual processes, which are constantly going - on in the 
mind, and acts a principal part in those creations of Fancy, which, 
derived from an union of Abstraction, Generalization, and Taste, 
constitutes works of genius in the fine arts. The Imagination does 
not abstract nor generalize, but it reproduces and supplies materials 
for these several processes, according' to the laws of association, 
which regulate the procedure of the mind, in its recollections and 
combinations. 

2. As it is the same power of reasoning which enables us to carry 
on our investigations with respect to individual objects, and with 
respect to classes and genera; so it was by the same processes of 
analysis and combination, that the genius of Milton produced the 
Garden of Eden, (Illits. 2. Art. 264.) that of Harrington, the Com- 
monwealth of Oceana, {Art. 187. Illus. 1.) and that of Shakespeare, 
the characters of Hamlet and Sir John FalstafT. 

Corol. The difference between these several efforts of invention, 
consists only in the manner in which the original materials were 
acquired ; as far as the power of Imagination is concerned, the pro- 
cesses appear, to my mind, to be perfectly analogous. 

262. The mind, however, has a greater facility, and, of 
consequence, a greater delight in recalling the perceptions 
of the sense of sight, than those of any of the other senses, 
while, at the same time, the variety of the cpialities perceiv- 
ed by it is incomparably greater. 

Illus. It is this sense, accordingly, which supplies the painter and 
the statuary with all the subjects on which their genius is exercised. 
It is this sense, too, which furnishes to the descriptive poet, the 
largest and the most valuable portion of the materials which he 
combines. It is observed by Mr. Stewart, that in that absurd spe- 
cies of prose composition also, which borders upon poetry, nothing 
is more remarkable than the predominance of phrases that recal to 
the memory, glaring colours, and those splendid appearances of na- 
ture, which make a strong impression on the eye. Thus, in the 
oriental style, the greater part of the metaphors are taken from the 
celestial luminaries ; and the works of the Persians, as is observed 



chap. is. Of Imagination. l\5 

by Voltaire, arc like the titles of their kings, in which we are per- 
petually dazzled with the sun, and the moon, and the stars. The 
juvenile productions of every author, possessed of a warm Imagi- 
nation, partake of this characteristic ; and the compositions of eve- 
ry people, among whom a cultivated and philosophical taste ha* 
not established a sufficiently marked distinction between the ap- 
propriate styles of poetry and prose, partake sufficiently of the 
infantine reveries of poetic genius, to show why the word Imagina- 
tion, in its most ordinary acceptation, should be applied to cases 
where our conceptions are derived from the sense of sight ,■ although 
the province of this power be, in fact, as unlimited as the sphere 
of human enjoyment and of human thought. But in these illustra- 
tions we may clearly trace the origin of the word Imagination : the 
etymology of which implies manifestly a reference to visible objects. 

263. The mind forms combinations out of the materials 
supplied by the power of Conception. : and these combina- 
tions recommend themselves strongly to our constitution, 
both by their simplicity, and by the interesting nature of the 
discussions to which they lead. 

Obs. The arts of poetry and painting furnish the most pleasing 
and instructive illustrations of the operations and intellectual pro- 
cesses of Imagination. In those analogous exemplifications of this 
faculty, which fall under the observation of the moralist, the mind 
deviates from the models presented to it by experience, and forms 
to itself new and untried objects of pursuit. And how little so- 
ever such processes may be attended to, they are habitually pas- 
sing in tlic thoughts of all men ; and it is in consequence of these 
processes that human affairs exhibit so busy and so various a scene ; 
tending in one case to improvement, and, in another, to decline ; 
according as our notions of excellence and happiness arc just or 
erroneous. 

264. But besides Conception, or simple Apprehension, 
which enables us to form a notion of those former objects 
of perception or of knowledge, out of which we are to make 
a selection ; Imagination includes Abstraction, which sepa- 
rates the selected materials from the qualities and circum- 
stances which are connected with them in nature ; and 
Judgment, or Taste, too, which selects the materials and 
directs their combination. Nor does this complex power 
include only those powers we have just enumerated, and to 
which, under Conception and Abstraction, we have shewn 
their alliance; but that particular habit of association also, 
to which we gave the name of Fancy, when illustrating the 
pleasing effect of simile, poetical allusion, and allegon . 
(See Article 208.) 

llius. 1. Fancy collects materials for the Imagination, (Corol. 2. 
OS.) and though her principal stores arc commonly su'ppo 



116 A Grammar of Logic. isoon it, 

sed to be borrowed from the material world, as the metaphorical 
language of the poet, and his analogies, which are the foundation 
of his allusions, but too forcibly prove ; yet the favourite excursions 
of Fancy are from intellectual and moral subjects to the appear- 
ances with which our senses are conversant, {Art. 261. Illus. 1.) 
In a word, wherever her stores may be treasured up, in what di- 
rection soever her flig-hts may be taken, it is Fancy which presents 
to our choice all the different materials which are subservient to 
the efforts of Imagination, and which may therefore be considered 
as forming the ground-work of poetical genius. 

2. This illustration is confirmed by an analysis of the steps by 
which Milton must have proceeded in creating his imaginary Gar- 
din of Eden. ( Illus. 2. Art. 261.) When he first proposed to him- 
self that subject of description, it is reasonable to suppose that 
his Fancy crowded into his mind a variety of the most striking 
scenes which he had seen. The Associatioii of ideas would sug- 
gest those scenes ; the combinations of Fancy would link such as 
might be real or imaginative, and fit objects of description ; the 
poxver of conception would place each of them before him with all 
its beauties and imperfections. For in every natural scene, which 
we may destine for a particular purpose, there are defects and re- 
dundancies, which art may sometimes, but cannot always, correct. 
And as objects may be imagined separately or jointly — as the 
power of Imagination is unlimited — as, in the separate images of 
things, she can consider their real or possible qualities and circum- 
stances, — as, in their joint images, she can consider their similitude, 
analogy and opposition — as she can create and annihilate ; Milton, 
accordingly, would not copy his Edest from any one scene, but 
woidd select from each the features which were most eminently 
beautiful. The power of Abstraction enabled him to make the 
separation, and Taste directed him in the selection. Thus was 
Milton furnished with his materials, by a skilful combination of 
which he has created a landscape, more perfect, probably, in all its 
parts, than was ever seen by any writer who has attempted to de- 
scribe nature. 

Carol. 1. Since, then, Imagination is not a simple power of the 
mind, but a combination of various faculties, it must appear under 
very different forms in the case of different individuals. And since 
the variety of the materials out of which the combinations of the 
poet or the painter are formed, will depend much on the tendency 
of external situation, to store the mind with a multiplicity of con- 
ceptions, and the beauty of those combinations will depend entirely 
on the success with which the power of Taste has been cultivated; 
it is further evident, that its component parts are liable to be great- 
ly influenced by habit and other accidental circumstances. (~Art. 
128. Illns.) 

2. The illustrations which have been offered of the power of 
Imagination, according to the reasoning of Mr. Stewart, lead to the 
conclusion that this poxver is not the gift of nature, but the result of 
acquired habits, aided by favourable circumstances ; that it is not 
an original endowment of the mind, but an accomplishment formed 
by experience and situation; a^id which, in its different gradations, 



chap. ix. Of imagination. 117 

fills up all the interval between the first efforts of untutored genius 
and the sublime creations of Raphael or of Milton. (See JLrt. 275. 
and Illus. J 

265. That men differ from each other greatly in the 
force of their Imagination, or in the power of forming or 
conceiving new creations and combinations, is matter ot 
the most familiar observation. And, as far as the term 
genius lias yet been distinctly limited, it appears to denote 
a facility in forming such combinations. This, in fact, is 
the proper province of invention, which is the peculiar pre- 
rogative of genius; for this can have no farther range than 
an analysis, and new disposition, of the various objects 
which nature presents to us ; and never can extend to a 
new creation of its own, in the strict and proper sense of 
the word. 

Illus. Thus, a blind man, let his invention be ever so lively, 
could never discover a new property of light. And, according to. 
this view of the subject, a man of genius is no more than a man of' 
active Imagination ; and though both terms are more usually ap- 
propriated to literary eminence, yet, if we take them in this sense, 
'Jie inventor in mechanics, in mathematics, in agriculture, or in any 
of the useful arts, or pursuits of life, is as much entitled to the 
appellation of a man of Genius and Imagination, as the poet, the 
painter, and the orator. 

266. A passive Imagination is that which is limited to a 
ready conception of new combinations, when suggested to 
it, but it does not extend to the original formation of such, 
combinations. And that there does exist such a species of 
Imagination, we think is evident, from the proof contained 
in the following illustration. 

Illus. This kind of Imagination does not go so far as to consti- 
tute a man of genius, yet it seems to furnish the proper qualifica- 
tion for the man of taste, since it enables him to relish and appre- 
ciate the productions of genius, although not to rival and excel in 
them. Of the two qualifications, it may be doubted whether the 
latter does not most contribute to real enjoyment. The pleasures 
which the man of fine taste derives from contemplating the pro- 
ductions of genius, is scarcely inferior to the high relish which the 
exercise of invention itself imparts ; and the inventive Imagination 
of the man of genius, is but too apt to conjure up phantoms for his 
own torment ; and to burn with jealousies, which his fancy knows 
but too well how to feed. The histories of Rousseau, Chatterton, 
Swift, Johnson, and other geniuses oi heated, or of gloomy Imagina- 
tions, afford ample confirmation of the truth of this fact. 

267. That belief may be attached to certain operations 
of the Imagination, which are then mistaken for realities, 

11 * 



118 A Grammar of Logic. book u« 

and produce as remarkable effects upon the individual, as 
if they were the very things they are mistaken for, is a fact 
none will dispute, who have attended to the inexplicable 
phenomena of the human mind, in the case of those unfor- 
tunate persons who are in the state of hypochondriacs, or 
imaginary invalids. 

Elus. 1. The wildest suggestions of the Imagination impress 
upon these unfortunate persons the full conviction of reality ; and 
all the reasoning of their friends, or physicians, is insufficient to 
convince them that they are formed like other men, and have not 
some part of their bodies, either unnaturally distorted, or fashioned 
of different materials from flesh, and blood, and bones. When 
hypochondriasis arrives at this height, it makes a near approach to 
certain stages of madness; and if the physician should deny that 
the bodily disease exists of which his patient complains, he must 
yet allow that there is a real disease of the mind. The Imagina- 
tion of the hypochondriac is not so much bewildered as it is lost in 
absurdities. And when the actions, the looks, and the language of 
any person whom we respect, or with whom we have had an ac- 
quaintance, shew that his mind has been soured by cruel vicissi- 
tudes in life — his hopes of domestic happiness blasted by keen 
disappointment — his affections withered by the loss of some being 
who had just begun to cherish them, — or his brain set on fire by 
treachery and ingratitude, in those from whom he had a right to 
expect fidelity and kindness — or his facidties deluged by a chaos of 
business, which he had neither the ingenuity to arrange, nor the 
resolution to abandon, for his own peace and ease — or beclouded 
by the re -action of a distempered conscience, — when, in one word, 
a congregation of unlooked-for, and, as the individual is almost 
always sure to imagine, unmerited calamities, give such a view of 
human affairs, as to represent life a scene of mere illusions ; then is 
that mortal forlorn indeed ; but still lie is less an object of pity than 
those unfeeling brutes who can sport with so sublime a picture of 
mysterious wretched man ; — and, it is ten to one, the spirit of the 
being we have sketched, like a lonely centinel guarding the ashes 
of his general, in moody solitude, yet loves to keep house with its 
friendless subject, now more to be compassioned and wooed to 
reason and sprightliness, than spurned and shunned for his imbe- 
cility and dulness. 

2. This is no overcharg-ed picture — I have had very much inter- 
coiu-se with its original, and from communion with the operation of 
the faculty now under consideration, I am willing it should be re- 
corded. But the following is a striking case of hypochondriasis 
within, perhaps, the precincts of madness. Monsieur Pinel is the 
physician of an hospital of lunatics in Paris, and, from his amiable 
manners and gentle treatment of his patients, receives no other 
name, from the most ferocious, than " papa ;" and from the females 
of that— 

" Gay sprightly land of mirth and social ease," 
the courtesy of their sex — the compliment of a salutation. This is 
treating mad-folks as they ought to be treated, and forms a brilliant 



chap. ix. Of Imagination. 119 

contrast to the brutal system of cudgelling-, adopted in the treat- 
ment of the illustrious, or the man of genius, by some of our own 
physicians. A patient was brought to Monsieur Pinel, accusing 
himself of having denounced many persons to the revolutionary 
tribunals during the reign of terror. M. Pinel heard from the lips 
of this patient his own tale of woe; and adopted the following 
method of treatment, or cure. As the lunatic wanted to be brought 
to justice, for having brought many virtuous and good citizens to 
the block, M. Pinel had his patient brought to trial. The court 
consisted of M. Pinel and other physicians, in the capacity of judges. 
Some of the medical students bore the characters and assumed the 
offices of counsel against and for the accused. On an appointed 
day the poor lunatic was earned from his cell to the tribunal of 
justice, or, in other words, to a saloon of the hospital, where every 
tiling bore the appearance of a criminal court. He was placed at 
its bar ; the charges were preferred against him, as himself had 
developed his imaginary crimes to M. Pinel ; these charges were 
substantiated by pretended eye and ear witnesses. But, on the 
other hand, the lunatic, as he had revealed to M. Pinel, had to value 
himself on many good deeds which he had rendered to his fellow- 
citizens during the phrenzy of the Revolution. The counsel for the 
accused, in their defence, brought witnesses to support these ser- 
vices, and urged their weight against the charges of the Attorney- 
General. M. Pinel, who acted as chief judge, summed up the 
evidence. The crimes of the prisoner amounted to so many ; his" 
essential good deeds to so many more than the former. This pre- 
ponderance the jury were charg-ed to well consider, in giving their 
verdict. They did so — they found the prisoner guilty of such and 
such things, but he had done so much good to the nation, that he 
was still an object of mercy ; and, therefore, they recommended 
him to mercy. The sentence of the court was, that the accused 
should be kept in confinement for three months, and then set at 
liberty. Befoi-e the trial was ended, the unfortunate man was 
nearly as free from hypochondriasis as his judges, and, long before 
the period of his sentence had expired, M. Pinel restored him 
to his friends quite well. But, unhappily, one of the students 
chanced, some time after, to mention in a company the case we 
have now described ; and its subject happened to be one of the 
company. The effect was like a shock of electricity upon him. 
His Imagination instantly lost its equipoise, and he relapsed into his 
former unfortunate state of hypochondriasis ; and he was not again 
to be cheated into sanity by M. Pinel. I relate this case from me- 
mory, on the authority of two gentlemen, who attended as students 
the hospital which M. Pinel governs. 

268. But even when the intellects are in a comparatively 
sound state, the visions of the Imagination may be made to 
produce, in certain persons, all the effects of reality. The 
success of certain empirical impositions, among which we 
may particularize the Animal Magnetism of Mesmer, and 
the Tractors of Perkins, sufficiently establish this. fact. 



120 A Grammar of Logic. book ii. 

lilus. 1. The reign of animal magnetism is now over; but its fame 
was rapidly circulated, and its wonders detailed and swallowed 
with avidity. The most incredulous could not deny the reality of 
its effects; as convulsions were produced, and strong bodily agita- 
tions excited, in persons who could not be suspected of lending 
their aid to the imposture. But the examination of the Academy 
of Sciences at Paris dispelled the illusion, and satisfactorily estab- 
lished that, as far as the effects were real, they were to be ascribed 
merely to the influence of the Imagination. 

2. The more modern quackery of the metallic tractors, seems 
fairly reducible, says Mr. Scott, to the same class. If these ever 
produced a real cure, the effect is to be ascribed to the influence 
of the Imagination, and not to the virtue of the metal. This 
seems, indeed, to be completely established by Dr. Hayg-arth, who 
found that his patients thought themselves equally benefited, 
whether he employed the tractors of Perkins, or tractors of his own 
manufacture, or even tractors of -wood, coloured so as to resemble 
those of metal. (See his " Treatise on the Imagination, as a Cause 
and Cure of Disease.") 

Corol. This influence of the Imagination on the corporeal frame, 
forms one feature of the mysterious union between the body and 
mind, in consequence of which, the one cannot be affected without 
some corresponding change in the other; an union so difficult to 
be comprehended, although of its reality we have the testimony of 
our daily experience. 

II. Of Imagination in its Relation to some of the Fine Arts. 

269. Among the arts which are connected with the 
faculty of Imagination, some not only take their rise from 
it, but produce objects which are directly addressed to this 
power. Others result from Imagination, but produce objects 
which are addressed to the power of perception. 

Illus. 1. Gardening, or the art of creating landscape, belongs to 
the latter of those two classes. For, here, Nature limits the de- 
signer in his creations ; and his utmost efforts are to correct, to 
improve, and to adorn. In some aits, the designer, to observe the 
effect of his plans, can repeat his experiments ; but the landscape 
gardener cannot do this, and must therefore conjure up, in his Ima- 
gination, the entire scene he intends to produce. His taste and 
judgment must before-hand be applied to this imaginary scene, that 
he may have a lively conception of the effect which it will actually 
produce when exhibited to the senses of others. 

Corol. The landscape thus produced is, therefore, a copy of the 
picture which the artist's Imagination, by the " prophetic eye of 
taste," had seen long before all its beauties were born ; and the 
scene which he exhibits, in a finished state, being addressed to the 
senses, may produce its full effect on the minds of others, without 
any effort on their part either of Imagination or of Conception. 

Obs. The foregoing- illustration directs itself merely to the natu- 
ral effects produced by a landscape, and the reader is left to supply, 



'I. u. ix. Of Imagination. 12\ 

in his own Imagination, the pleasure which may result from the 
accidental association of ideas with a particular scene. 

Illus. 2. The painter who paints a faithful copy of an individual 
object, whether it be a poi'trait or a landscape, or some particular 
scene for the stage, is not permitted to indulge in Imagination. 
But when he conceives some subject for a painting, for which he 
has no copy, the original idea must be formed in the Imagination ; 
and, that the picture may produce the effect on the mind of the 
spectator which the artist has in view, the exercise of Imagination 
must concur with perception. 

Corol. Painting, therefore, has something in common with those 
arts which not only take their rise from the power of Imagination, 
but produce objects which are addressed to it, and with those arts 
also which take their rise from Imagination, but produce objects 
which are addressed to the power of perception. 

Ilhts. 3. In poetry, and in every species of descriptive composi- 
tion, the power of the Imagination is requisite both to the author 
and the reader ; to the former, to present to the mind of another 
the objects of his own Imagination ; and to the latter, to form in 
his mind a distinct picture of what is described. But no two per- 
sons possess Imagination in the same degree, or those other powers, 
abstraction, conception, and association, on the proper exercise of 
which the full display of Imagination depends ; and therefore, 
though both may be pleased, the agreeable impressions that each 
may feel, may be widely different from those of the other, accord- 
ing as the pictures by which those impressions are produced, may 
be more or less happily imagined. 

4. In landscape gardening, the designs of Kent, of Brown, and of 
Loudon evipce, in their authors, a degree of Imagination analogous 
to that of the descriptive poet; and whatever they have designed 
meets the eye of every spectator, bating always the beauties and 
pleasures resulting* to some individuals from association. But in 
poetry, the reader must actually possess some degree of the 
author's genius, and a mind furnished by previous habits, with the 
means of interpreting his language, to be able, by his own Imagina- 
tion, to co-operate with the efforts of the author. 

5. In article 195, it was observed, that " the fluctuating state of 
language does not permit general names always to retain the same 
precise signification ;" and we may here add, that general words, 
which express complex ideas, seldom convey precisely the same 
meaning to different individuals ; hence arises the ambiguity of lan- 
guage, in respect to sensible objects. For who, for example, in a de- 
scriptive composition, attaches the same precise idea to the words 
river, grove, mountain ? The youth, the man of lively Imagination, 
has a very different conception of those words from another youth 
or another man of a blunt Imagination. The former thinks of some 
particular river, grove, mountain, that has made an impression on his 
mind ; the latter, destitute of any such impression, and perhaps a 
native of London, would think of the Thames, Hornsey Wood, and 
the Surrey Hills. The youth who has been educated at Eton, at 
Winchester, or at Harrow, would be in the same predicament 
with him who had received the rudiments of his education at West- 
minster. Tor myself, I ever think with delight of the little Island 



122 *# Grammar of Logic. book 11. 

of Bute, where I was born, and partly educated; its wood-crowned 
hills, its lakes, its rocky coast, its ancient csstle, whence the Prince 
of Wales derives the title of Duke of .llothsay ; my ancient and 
venerable masters Macartney and Mackinlay ; the recollection of 
early friendships and all those agreeable ideas associated with the 
scenes of childhood and of youth, rush spontaneously on my mind, 
and would afford many pleasing - descriptions were they thrown to- 
gether in some boyish tale. Every man feels the same ; every 
youth will assent to this : and it sufficiently establishes the position 
we have in hand, provided always common sense be our guide. 
But, to fill up any descriptive picture, both Imagination and Con- 
ception are requisite ; hence those who have seen Loch Catherine 
will be able to judge correctly of Walter Scott's description of that 
charming- scene ; and those who have visited Florence, Athens, and 
Kome, as they now are, can judge of lord Byron's pictures of those 
places, and of their inhabitants. And the foreg-oing reasoning 
leads to the inference, that in descriptive composition, much is left 
to be supplied by the Imagination of the reader, on whose mind 
the effect will be in the direct ratio of his own invention and taste 
to that of the author's, or that with which the picture is finished. 

Carol. 1. It is therefore, possible, on the one hand, as is remarked 
by Mr. Stewart, that the happiest efforts of poetical genius may be 
perused with perfect indifference by a man of sound judgment, and 
not destitute of natural sensibility, and on the other hand, that a 
cold and common-place description may be the means of awaken- 
ing, in a rich and glowing Imagination, a degree of enthusiasm 
unknown to the author. 

2. The primary object in th&se arts which we have mentioned, is 
to please ,■ and this circumstance disting-uishes poetry from philoso- 
phical compositions, which usually have for their object to inform 
and enligln en mankind; and ako from oratory, whose object is to 
acquire an ascendant over the will of others, by bending" to the 
speaker's purposes, their judg-ments, their imagination.;, and their 
passions. 

III. The Relation of Imagination and of Taste to Genius. 

270. Persons accustomed to analyse and combine their 
conceptions, may acquire ideas of beauty far above any 
which they have seen realized. A habit of forming such 
mental combinations, and of remarking their eftect on our 
own minds, must, therefore, contribute to exalt the Taste to 
a degree which it never can attain in those people who 
study to improve it by the observation and comparison only 
of external objects. (Stewart.) 

Ilius. 1. Genius in the fine arts is nothing more than a cultiva- 
ted Taste combined with a creative Imagination. Without Taste, 
Imagination could only produce a random analysis and combination 
of our conceptions ; and without Imagination, Taste would be des- 
titute of the faculty of invention. These two ingredients of genius 



P'hap. ix. Of Imagination. i 23 

ma.} be mixed together in all possible proportions ; and when ei- 
ther is possessed in a degree remarkably exceeding' what falls to 
the ordinary share of mankind, it may compensate in some mea- 
sure, for a deficiency in the other. An uncommonly correct Taste, 
with little Imagination, if it does not produce works which excite 
admiration, produces at least nothing that can offend. An uncom- 
mon fertility of imagination, even when it offends, excites our 
wonder by its creative powers, and shews what it could have per- 
formed, had its exertions been guided by a more perfect mode!. 
(Stewart.) 

2. In the infancy of the arts, an union of these two powers in th< 
same mind is necessary for the production of every work of genius. 
At that period there are no monuments of ancient genius on which 
Taste can be formed. It must therefore be from the result of ex- 
periments, which nothing but the Imagination of every individual 
can enable him to make, that Taste can be formed. At that period, 
therefore, Taste, without Imagination, is impossible. But, as ex- 
perience becomes extended, Taste will be acquired, and, as it 
becomes perfect, Imagination will produce more chaste, more 
beautiful, and more finished pictures, or descriptions, or scenes. 

Corol. Hence, as the productions of genius accumulate, Taste 
may be formed by a careful perusal of the works of others ; .and, as 
formerly Imagination served as a necessary foundation for Taste, so 
Taste now begins to invade the province of Imagination. The 
multiplicity and variety of the combinations, which, for a long suc- 
cession of ag-es, Imagination has fanned, present ample materials 
for a judicious selection. A high standard of excellence is now 
continually present to the artist's thoughts. He may, therefore, by 
'ndustry, assisted by the most moderate degree of Imagination* 
produce, in time, performances, not only more free from faults, but 
incomparably more powerful in their effects, than the most origin- 
al efforts of untutored genius, which, guided by an uncultivated 
taste, copies after an inferior model of perfection. 

IV. Of the Influence of Imagination on Human Character 
and Happiness. 

l 271. The power of Imagination has been hitherto consid- 
ered chiefly as it is related to the arts of poetry, painting, 
sculpture, and the creation of landscape ; bat its powerful 
influence on human character and happiness recommend it 
eminently to the atteution of youth. 

Il/us. The lower animals, says Mr. Stewart, as far as we are able 
to judge, are entirely occupied with the objects of their present 
perceptions ; and the case is nearly the same with the inferior 
orders of our own species. One of the principal effects which a 
liberal education produces on the mind, is to accustom us to with- 
draw our attention from the objects of sense, and to direct it at 
pleasure, to those intellectual combinations which delight the Ima- 
gination. And, among men of cultivated understandings, this 
faculty is possessed in very unequal degrees by different individii- 



124 «# Grammar of Logic. book u. 

als ; and these differences, whether resulting 1 from original consti- 
tution, or from early education, lay the foundation of some striking 
varieties in human character. 

272. That sensibility depends, in a great measure, on the 
power of Imagination, will appear evident from the follow- 
ing illustration. 

Ilhis. Point out to two men any object of compassion ; a man, for 
example, reduced by misfortune from easy circumstances to indi- 
gence. The one feels merely in proportion to what he perceives 
by his senses. The other follows, in Imagination, the unfortunate 
man to his dwelling, and partakes with him and his family in their 
domestic distresses. He listens to their conversation, while they 
recal to remembrance the flattering prospects they once indulged ; 
the circle of friends they had been forced to leave; the liberal 
plans of education which were begun and interrupted ; and pic- 
tures to himself all the various resources which delicacy and pride 
suggest to conceal poverty from the world. As he proceeds in the 
painting-, his sensibility increases, and he weeps, not for what he 
sees, but for what he imagines. Granted that his sensibility ori- 
ginally roused his Imagination, the warmth of his Imagination 
increased and prolonged his sensibility. Let any of my young 
friends take up the " Sentimental Journey" of Sterne, and he will 
find this position verified in numerous instances. The refections on 
the state prisons of France, suggested by the accidental sight of a 
starling confined in a cage, is a case in point. And I have myself, 
without a shadow of vanity in what I say, had several illustrations 
of this remark during a residence of ten years in the metropolis ; 
as well among the aged and infirm who had seen better days, as 
among those of my own age, who have had the cup of bliss dashed 
from their lips when they were about to sip its nectar. 

273. On some persons, who discover no sensibility to the 
distresses of real life, the exhibitions of fictitious scenes of 
distress produce effects analogous to those we have illus- 
trated. 

Illus. In a novel or a tragedy, the picture is completely finished in 
all its parts ; and we are made acquainted, (as in " The Vicar of 
Wakefield," for example, or " King Leah ;") not only with every 
circumstance on which the distress turns, but with the sentiments 
and feelings of every character, with respect to the situation of 
that character. In real life we see, in general, only detached scenes 
of the tragedy, and the impression is slight, unless Imagination 
finishes the characters, and supplies the incidents which are want- 
ing to make them complete. 

274. Imagination, however, does not only increase our 
sensibilit} r to scenes of distress ; it gives us a double share of 
enjoyment in the prosperity of others, and fits us to partici- 
pate, with a more lively interest, in every fortunate incident 
that falls to the lot either of individuals or of communities. 



B hap. ix. Of Imagination. 12j 

Obc 1. Even from the productions of the earth, and the vicissi- 
tudes of the year, Imagination carries forward our thoughts to the 
enjoyments they bring to the sensitive creation, and by interesting 
our benevolent affections in the scenes we behold, lends a new 
charm to the beauties of nature. In confirmation of this observa- 
tion, I recommend to the student's perusal, Thomson's " Seasons," 
or Bloomfield's " Farmer's Boy.". 

2. As to those callous beings who feel wholly for themselves, and 
have no emotions for the fate of others; who, in fact, evince no 
feeling for the distresses to which humanity is so much a pre}" ; 
their coldness and selfishness may be traced to a want of attention, 
and a want of Imagination ; and I shall not, therefore, insult the 
mind of generous youth, by pourtraying principles that bar the 
heart against the eloquent and pathetic language of beggary, 
famine, disease, and all the distress which exists in the world. 

V. On the Culture of the Imagination. 

275. It may be asserted, without fear of contradiction, 
that, with regard to the faculty of Imagination, as with 
regard to all the other endowments of the mind, certain 
degrees of improvement are within the reach of every indi- 
vidual who earnestly endeavours to attain it. 

Elm. In truth, says Professor Jardine, the simple consideration 
that tills faculty, like most others, is in a constant state of action, 
necessarily implies the notion of culture and improvement. In 
veiy young persons, too, its efforts are weak, and its combinations 
unsteady; but, as the rang-e of knowledge enlarges, and the num- 
ber of ideas is increased, its growing power makes itself manifest in 
the vivid reproductions which it places before the mind, and in the 
boldness of its varied creations. 

Example 1. When Philip planned the conquest of Greece, or 
when Scipio and Polybius anticipated the destruction of Carthage, 
their Imaginations must have been strong and steady enough to 
present, before the eye of their minds, extensive combinations of 
distant events respecting the relative state ami condition of these 
nations, and the various probabilities which fell within their view. 
Their Imaginations could not have performed for them this office 
when they first began to study politics. 

2. When Sir Isaac Newton first began to study- astronomy, he 
would probably find it extremely difficult to combine the revolu- 
tions of the Earth and Moon in their orbits round the Sun ; but, in 
process of time, his Imagination would, with the utmost ease and 
steadiness, place before him the whole solar system, in the order of 
the relative distances, magnitudes, and dependencies of the several 
planets of which it is composed. 

3. When the celebrated Edmund Burke, too, at the very time 
when the greatest part of the learned men of Europe were rejoic- 
ing at the pleasing prospect opened by the French Revolution, fore- 
Saw the confusion, anarchy, and bloodshed, that followed so hard 
upon it, his Imagination must have held up to him a long train of 

12 



126 A Grammar of Logic. book u- 

events, linked together as cause and effect, and must have manifest- 
ed a deg'ree of energy to which, in the early periods of his life, it 
would have been totally inadequate. 

Corol. These examples make it very obvious that there is a gra- 
dual progress in the developement of this faculty, and, consequent- 
ly, that there is a fair field spread out for the application of culture. 

276. It is well known, from experience, that the activity 
and consequent improvement of the Imagination, depend 
not a little upon the character of the objects with which it is 
first occupied. 

Illus. The great, the sublime, the beautiful, the new, and the 
uncommon, in external nature, are not only striking and agreea- 
ble in themselves, but by association, these qualities powerfully 
awaken the sensibilities of the heart, and kindle the fires of youth- 
ful Imagination. On the other hand, there are certain objects so 
mean, so tame, and pursuits so ignoble, amidst which the early 
years of life are sometimes doomed to be spent, as neither to have 
produced one impression, nor excited one train of thought, which 
could ever afterwards enter into the conceptions, or aid the fancy, 
of the painter or the poet. (Jardine.) 

Corol. If, therefore, the student shall permit objects which are 
mean, low, or sensual, to usurp possession of his mind; if the books 
which he reads, and the studies that he pursues, are contaminated 
with gross ideas, he has no right to expect that this omnipotent 
faculty shall ever draw from the polluted treasures of his memory, 
any thing noble, useful, or praiseworthy ; or that his name shall 
ever be enrolled among those who have delighted, instructed, and 
honoured their native land and the world at large : — " Out of the 
fulness of the heart, the mouth speaketh." 

277. But the Imagination is not only improvable, in 
point of vigour and activity, it likewise admits of culture 
in respect of regularity and chasteness. (Corol. Art. 270.) 

Illus. No faculty is naturally more irregular and rambling in its 
motions, or demands more loudly the controul of a governing power. 
"Whilst we are awake, indeed, and in a sound state of mind, it 
is kept within some bounds by the presence of external objects, and 
by the impression derived from them through the medium of the 
senses ; but in a dream, those centinels being off their guard, we 
have sufficient experience of its eccentric flights, and its fantastic 
combinations. The first efforts, too, of men of genius, may be 
compared to the curvetings of an unbridled colt, which scampers 
over the fields, spurning all constraint, till its strength is exhausted; 
nor is it until experience, with its usual accompaniments of improv- 
ed knowledge, and enlightened taste, has tamed the impetuosity 
of youthful feeling - , that this faculty becomes subjected to those 
regular movements of reason, sensibility, and passion, to which we 
owe the many fine specimens of poetry, eloquence, statuary, and 
painting, that adorn the brighter eras of civilized society. (Jardinjs.) 
Corol. 1. From the foregoing illustrations in this section, it natu- 



chap. x. Of Judgment. 127 

rally occurs, as a rational enquiry, whether there might not be con- 
structed such a scheme of discipline and instruction, as would 
invigorate and call forth, in regular and systematic exercises, the 
latent powers of Imagination? The enlightened Tutor of a well 
adjusted plan of education, will find many of the first steps within 
his reach, and the virtuous student will find, in the end, that the 
company he has kept, the conversation he has maintained, and the 
books he has used, are of some avail in influencing his general 
taste, and in determining the bias of fancy, and improving or dete- 
riorating the powers of Imagination. 

2. From certain varieties, which no doubt subsist in the original 
constitution of the intellectual powers, from early habits and parti- 
cular associations, the Imagination of some youths may be more 
early directed to sensible or to visible imagery than to other trains 
of thought ; but, in all cases, the Imagination, the active instrument 
of reproduction, is within the reach of culture, when applied pro- 
perly, and at a proper season. Great poets, and illustrious paint- 
ers, are, it is true, distinguished by original differences of activity 
and strength of Imagination ; nor is it less true, on the other hand, 
that no degree of labour or of industry can raise a weak and feeble 
Imagination to the highest degree of poetical or of limning genius ; 
still, it may be maintained, (See Carol. Art. 270. Section hi. of this 
chapter,) that by reasonable culture, this power can be made capa- 
ble of greater efforts, and invested with higher qualities, than could 
arise from the mere natural and unimproved endowments. 

This is the opinion of Professor Jardine, and it is supported by 
the authority of Dugald Stewart. See the " Outlines of a Philoso- 
phical Education," by the Former, and the " Elements of the Phi- 
losophy of the Human Mind," ch. vii. vol. 1. by the Latter. 



CHAPTER X. 

OF JUDGMENT. 

I. Analysis of this Fuculty in general. 

378. Judgment has been defined the faculty by which 
the mind comes to determinations concerning the truth or 
falsehood of any thing that is affirmed or denied. (Art. 97. 
J\o. X. p. 44.) 

Obs. As it is impossible, by a definition, to give a notion of colour 
to a man who never saw colours ; so it is impossible, by any defini- 
tion, to give a distinct notion of Judgment, to a person "who has not 
often judged, and who is not capable of rejecting attentively upon 
this act of the mind. The best use of a definition, is to prompt the 
reader to that reflection ; and without it the best definition will be 
apt to mislead him. The definition we have given is confirmed b> 
She following illustrations. 



128 A Grammar of Logic. book ii, 

lllus. 1. True it is, that by affirmation or denial, we express our 
judgments ; but there may be judgments which are not expressed. 
Judgment is a solitary act of the mind, and the expression of it, by 
affirmation or denial, is not at all essential to it. It may be tacit, 
and not expressed. Nay, it is well known, that men may judge 
contrary to what they affirm or deny ; the definition must, therefore, 
be understood of mental affirmation or denial, which indeed is only 
another name for Judgment. (See lllus. Art. 28.) 

2. The affirming or denying of a thing, is very often the expres- 
sion of testimony, which is a direct act of the mind, and ought to be 
distinguished from Judgment. 

Example. A judge asks a witness what he knows of such a 
matter, to which he was an eye or an ear witness. The witness 
answers, by affirming or denying- something. But his answer does 
not express his Judgment ; it is his testimony. Again, you ask a 
man his opinion in a matter of science, or of criticism. His answer 
is not testimony; it is the expression of his judgment. Thus, testi- 
mony is distinguished from judgment . (See lllus. 2. Art. 116.) 

lllus. 3. Testimony is a social act, and it is essential to this act 
that it be expressed by words or signs. A tacit testimony is a con- 
tradiction ; but there is no contradiction in a tacit Judgment : it is 
complete, without being expressed. In testimony a man pledges 
his veracity for what he affirms ; so that a false testimony is a lie ; 
but a wrong judgment is not a lie ; it is only an error. In the 
structure of all languages, says Dr. Reid, testimony and judgment 
are expressed by the same form of speech. A proposition, affirma- 
tpee or negative, with a verb in what is called the indicative mood, 
expresses both. (See Art. 25.) 

4. Although men must have judged in many cases before tribu- 
nals of justice were erected, yet it is very probable that there were 
tribunals before men began to speculate about Judgment, and that 
the word may be borrowed from the practice of tribunals. As a 
judge, after taking the proper evidence passes sentence in a cause, 
and that sentence is called his judgment ,- so the mind, with regard 
to whatever is true or false, passes sentence, or determines according 
to the evidence that is before it. Some kinds of evidence leave no 
room for doubt, and sentence is passed immediately, without seek- 
ing or hearing any contrary evidence, because the thing is certain 
and notorious. In other cases, there is room for weighing evidence, 
on both sides, before sentence is passed. 

Carol. The analogy between a tribunal of justice and this inward 
tribunal of the mind, is too obvious to escape the notice of any man 
who ever appeared before a judge j and we may thence infer, that 
the word Judgment, as well as many other -words which we use in 
speaking of this operation of the mind, are grounded on this analo- 
gy. ■ (See Chapter IV. Book I.) 

279. In Article 140, we pointed out the distinction be- 
tween conception, as used in Chapter V. of this book, and 
simple apprehension, which, in the language of the school- 
men, includes our apprehension of general propositions. 
Judgment is an act of the mind specifically different from 



chap. x. Of Judgment. 129 

simple apprehension, or the bare conception of a thing. 
(See Illus. Art. 25.) 

Illtts. Although there can be no Judgment without a conception 
of the thing's about which we judge ; yet conception may be with- 
out any Judgment. Judgement can be expressed by a proposition 
only, and a proposition is a complete sentence ; but simple appre- 
hension may be expressed by a word or words, which make no 
complete sentence. When simple apprehension is employed 
about a proposition, every man knows that it is one thing to appre- 
hend a proposition, that is, to conceive what it means ; but it is 
quite another thing to judge it to be true or false. {Illus. Art. 28.) 

280. Every Judgment must be either true or false, but 
simple apprehension can neither be true nor false. (See 
Corol Art. 52.) 

Illus. One Judgment may be contradictory to another ; and it is 
impossible for a man to have, at the same time, two Judgments, 
which he perceives to be contradictory. But contradictory propo- 
sitions may be conceived at the same time without any difficulty. 
That the Sun is greater than the Earth, and that the Sun is not 
greater than the Earth, are contradictory propositions. He that 
apprehends the meaning of the one apprehends the meaning of both. 
Hut it is impossible for him to judge both to be true at the same 
lime. He knows that if one is true, the other is false. 

Corol. For these reasons, we hold it to be certain, that Judg- 
ment and simple apprehension are acts of the mind specifically 
different. (See Art. 279.) 

281. There are notions, or ideas, that ought to be refer- 
red to the faculty of Judgment as their source ; because, if 
sve had not this faculty, they could not enter "into our 
minds ; and, to all those that have this faculty, and are 
capable of reflecting upon its operations, they are obvious 
and familiar. 

Illus. Among these we may reckon the notion of Judgment 
itself; the notions of a proposition, of its subject, of its predicate, 
and of its copula ; — of affirmation and negation, of true and false, 
of knowledge, belief, disbelief, opinion, assent, evidence. From 
no source could we acquire these notions, but from reflecting upon 
our judgments. Relations of things make one great class of our no- 
tions, or ideas ; and we cannot have the idea of any relation, with- 
out some exercise of Judgment. 

282. In persons come to years of understanding, Judg- 
ment necessarily accompanies all sensation, perception by 
the senses, consciousness, and memory.. 

Obs. Infants and ideots are of course excluded in the considera- 
tion of this position. 

Illus. 1. In persons having the exercise of Judgment, it is evi- 
dent, that the man who feels pain, judg-es and believes that he is 
12* 



130 A Grammar of Logic, book n, 

really pained. (See Illus. Art. 39.) The man who perceives an 
object believes that it exists, and that it is what he distinctly per- 
ceives it to be ; nor is it in his power to avoid such a Judgment. 
And the same may be affirmed of Memory, and of Consciousness. 

2. Whether Judgment ought to be called a necessary concomi- 
tant of these operations, or rather a part or ingredient of them, 
enters not into the illustration before us ; but it is certain, that all 
of them are accompanied with a determination and a consequent 
belief that something is true or false. If this determination be not 
Judgment, it is an operation that has received no name by phi- 
losophers ; for it is not simple apprehension, neither is it reason- 
ing ; it is a mental affirmation or negation ; it may be expressed 
by a proposition affirmative or negative, and it is accompanied 
with the firmest belief. These are the characteristics of Judgment. 

283. The judgments which we form are either of things 
necessary, or of things contingent. 

Illus. 1. That three times three are nine; that the whole is grea- 
ter than its part ; — are judgments about things necessary. Our 
assent to such necessaiy propositions is not grounded upon any 
operation of sense, of memory, or of consciousness, nor does it re- 
quire their concurrence ; it is unaccompanied by any other opera- 
tion but that of conception, which must accompany all Judgment. 
(See Art. 147. Illus. 1.) 

2. Our Judgment of things contingent must always rest upon 
some other operation of the mind, such as sense, or memory, or 
consciousness, or credit in testimony, which is itself grounded 
upon sense. That I now write upon a desk covered with green 
baize, is a contingent event, which I judge to be most undoubtedly 
true. My Judgment is grounded upon my perception, {Art. 23.) 
and is a necessary concomitant, or ingredient, of my perception. 
That I yesterday dined with such a person, I judge to be true, be- 
cause I remember it, and my Judgment necessarily goes along with 
this remembrance, or makes a part of it. (See Art. 49.) 

284. There are many forms of speech in common lan- 
guage which show that the senses, memory, and conscious- 
ness, are considered as judging faculties. 

Illus. We say that a man judges of colours by his eye, of sounder 
by his ear. We speak of the evidence of sense, (Corol. Art. 121.) 
the evidence of memory, {Art. 243. Illus.) and the evidence of 
consciousness, (~ Corol. Art. 101._^ Evidence is the basis of Judg- 
ment ; and when we see evidence it is impossible not to judge. 

Corol. 1. Hence, when we speak of seeing or remembering any 
thing, we hardly ever add that -we judge it to be true ; because such 
an addition would be a superfluity of speech. And, for the same 
reason, in speaking of what is self-evident, or strictly demonstrated, 
we do not say that we judge it to be true. Hence the gramma- 
rians say, that to see -with the eyes, is a tautology ; and they arc per- 
fectly correct. 

2. There is, therefore, good reason why, in speaking or -writings 
Judgment should not be expressly mentioned, when all men know 



chap. x. Of Judgment. 131 

it to be necessarily implied ; that is to say, when there can be n« 
doubt. The bare mention of the evidence is all that men require. 
But when the evidence mentioned leaves room for doubt, then, with- 
out any superfluity, or tautology, we say we judge the thing- to be 
so, because this is not implied in what was said before. 

285. The judgments grounded upon the evidence of 
sense, of memory, and ot consciousness, are called judg- 
ments of nature, because she has subjected us to them 
whether we will or not, — because she has thus put all men 
upon a level, {Art. 121. Carol.) and thus deprived the phi- 
losopher of any prerogative above the illiterate, or even 
above the savage. Belief in our senses, and in our memo- 
ry, is not learned by culture. It is necessary to all men 
for their being and preservation, and therefore is uncondi- 
tionally given to all men by the Author of Nature. 

II. Of the Exercise of Judgment in the Formation of 
abstract and general Conceptions. 

286. That some exercise of Judgment is necessary in the 
formation of all abstract and general conceptions, whether 
more simple or more complex in dividing, in defining, and, 
in general, in forming all clear and distinct conceptions of 
things, which are the only fit materials of all reasoning, we 
shall now proceed to illustrate. 

Obs. These operations are allied to each otber, and have, there- 
fore, been brought under one article. But they are more allied to 
our rational nature than those considered in the last section, and 
are therefore to be considered by themselves. And, that the illus- 
trations we are to offer may not be mistaken for what they really 
are not, we take leave to premise, that it is not meant to be 
affirmed that abstract notions, or other accurate notions of thing-s, 
after they have been formed, cannot be barely conceived without any 
exercise of Judgment about them. All that is meant by the posi- 
tion laid down in the article now in hand, is, that, in the formation, 
at first, of those "abstract and general conceptions" of the mind, 
there must be some exercise of judgment. 

Illus. 1. It is impossible to distinguish the different atributes be- 
longing to the same subject, without judging that they are really 
different and distinguishable, and that they have that relation to 
the subject which logicians express by saying, that they may be 
the predicated of it. We cannot generalize, without judging that 
the same attribute does, or may, belong to many individuals, {Art. 
188.) Our simplest general notions are formed by distinguishing 
and generalizing ; hence we may infer, that Judgment is exercised 
in forming the simplest general notions. 

2. In those that are more complex, and which have been shewn 
to be formed by combining the more simple, there is anoth- 



132 A Grammar of Logic. book n. 

er act of the Judgment required ; for such combinations are not 
made at random, but for an end, and Judgment is employed in fit- 
ting them to that end. We form complex general notions for the 
conveniency of arranging our thoughts in discourse and reasoning; 
and, therefore, of an infinite number of combinations that might be 
formed, we choose only those that are useful and necessary. 

287. That Judgment must be employed in dividing as 
well as in distinguishing, appears evident. It is one thing 
to divide a subject properly, another to cut it to pieces. 
Hoc non est divider e, sed frangere rem, said Cicero, when 
he censured the improper division of Epicurus. 

Ulus. Reason, as we shall see by and bye, has discovered rules 
of division which have been known to logicians for more than 
2000 years. There are rules likewise of definition, of no less anti- 
quity and authority. A man may, no doubt, divide or define pro- 
perly without attending to these rules, or even without knowing 
them ; but this can only be when he has Judgment to perceive 
that to be rig-ht in a particular case, which the rule determines to be 
right in all cases. 

Corol. What has now been advanced, leads to the inference that, 
without some degree of Judgment, we can form no accurate and 
distinct notions of things ; so that one province of Judgment is, to 
aid us in forming clear and distinct conceptions of things, which 
are the only fit materials for reasoning. 

288. The necessity of some degree of Judgment to have 
clear and distinct conceptions of things, may thus be illus- 
trated, even to the philosophers, who have always consider- 
ed the formation of ideas of every kind as belonging to 
simple apprehension, and that the sole province of Judgment 
is to put them together in affirmative or negative propo- 
sitions. 

Ulus. An artist, suppose a carpenter, cannot work in his art with- 
out tools, and these tools must be made by art. The exercise of 
the art, therefore, is necessary to make the tools, and the tools are 
necessary to the exercise of the art. And this is illustrative of the 
necessity of some degree of Judgment, in order to form clear and 
distinct conceptions of things. These are the tools which we must 
use in judging' and reasoning, and without them our work must be 
very bungling- indeed ; yet these tools cannot be made without some 
exercise of Judgment. 

289. The necessity of some degree of Judgment in for- 
ming accurate and distinct notions of things, will further 
appear, if we consider attentively what notions we can 
form, without any aid of Judgment, of the objects of sense, 
of the operations of our own minds, or of the relations of 
things. 



fcHAP. X. Of Judgment. 135 

(i.) To begin with the objects of sense. 
290. It is acknowledged, on all hands, that the first 
notions we have of sensible objects are acquired by the 
external senses only, and probably before Judgment is 
brought forth ; but these first notions are neither simple, 
nor are they accurate and distinct. They are gross and 
indistinct, and, like a chaos, an indigested heap of rude 
materials. Before we can have any distinct notion of this 
mass, it must be analysed ; the heterogeneous parts must 
be separated in our conception, and the simple elements, 
which before lay hid in the common mass, must first be 
distinguished, and then put together into one whole. 

IU.ua. In this way it is that we form distinct notions even of the 
object'; of sense ; but this analysis and composition become so easy 
by habit, and can be thence performed so readiry, that we are apt 
to overlook it, and to impute the distinct notion we have formed of 
the object, f< i the senses alone ; and this we art; the more prone to 
do, because, ,when once we have distinguished the sensible quali- 
ties of the object from one another, the sense gives testimony to each 
of them. 

Example. Suppose a cube of brass to be presented at the same 
time to a child of a year old and to a man. The regularity of the 
figure will attract the attention* of both. Both have the sensations 
of sight and of touch in equal perfection ; and, therefore, if any 
thing be discovered in this object by the man, which cannot be 
discovered by the child, it must be owing, not to the senses, but to 
some other faculty, which the child has not yet attained. 

J/lus. 1. First, then, the man can easily distinguish the bedy from 
the surface that terminates it : this the child cannot do. Secondly* 
the man can perceive, that this surface is made up of six planes of 
the same figure and magnitude : the child cannot discover this. 
Thirdly, the man perceives that each of these planes has four equal 
sides, and four angles : and that the opposite sides of each plane, 
and the opposite planes are parallel. (See filus. 1. .'Irt. 183.) 

2. It will sureiy he allowed, tl at a man of ordinary Judgment 
may observe all this in a cube which he makes an object of con- 
templation, and takes time to consider; that he may give the name 
of a square to a plane terminated by four equal sides and four equal 
angles ; and the name of a cube, to a solid terminated by six equal 
squares ; all this then is nothing else but analysing the figure of the 
object presented to his senses into its simplest elements, and again 
compounding it of those elements. 

3. By this analysis anil composition tivo effects are produced. 
First, from the one complex object which his senses presented to 
his mind, though one of the most simple the senses can present, 
he educes many simple and distinct notions of right lines, angles, 
plane surface, solid, equality, parallelism; notions which the child 
has not yet faculties to attain. Secondly, when the man considers 
the cube as compounded of these elements, put together in a cer- 



134 A Grammar of Logic. book ji. 

tain order, he has then, and not before, a distinct and scientific 
notion of a cube. The child neither conceives those elements, 
nor in what order they must be put together, so as to make a 
cube ; and therefore of a cube he has no accurate notion which 
can make it a subject of reasoning - . 

Corol. Whence we may conclude, that the notions which we 
have from the senses alone, even of the simplest object of sense, 
are indistinct, and incapable of being either described or reasoned 
upon, until the object is analysed into its simple elements, and 
considered as compounded of those elements. (See Jllus. and 
Corol. Art. 188.) 

Illus. 4. And if we should apply this reasoning to more complex 
objects of sense, the conclusion is still more evident. 

Example. A dog may be taught to turn a jack, but he can ne- 
ver be taught to have a distinct notion of a jack. He sees every 
part of it as well as a man ; but the relation of the parts to one 
another, and to the whole, he has not Judgment to comprehend. 
(See Illus. 6. Art. 192.) 

Illus. 5. A distinct notion of an object, even of sense, is never 
got in an instant ; but the sense performs its office in an instant. 
Time is not required to see it better, but to analyse it, to distinguish 
the different parts, and their relation to one another, and to the 
whole. 

Corol. Hence it is, that when any vehement passion or emotion 
hinders the cool application of Judgment, we get no distinct notion 
of an object, even though the sense be long directed to it. 

Example. A man who is put into a panic, by thinking he sees a 
ghost, may stare very long, without having any distinct notion of 
what he fancies he beholds ; it is his understanding, and not his 
sense, that is disturbed by his horror. If he can lay that aside, 
Judgment immediately enters upon its office, and examines the 
length and breadth, the colour and figure, and distance of the 
object. Of these, while his panic lasted, he had no distinct notion, 
though his eyes were open all the time. 

Him. 6. When the visual organ is open, but the Judgment dis- 
turbed by a panic, or any violent emotion that engrosses the mind, 
we see things confusedly, and probably much in the same manner 
that brutes and perfect ideots do, and infants also before the use 
of judgment. 

Corol. There are, therefore, notions of the objects of sense, which 
are gross and indistinct, and there are others which are distinct 
and scientific. The former may be acquired from the senses alone ; 
but the latter cannot be obtained without some degree of Judg- 
ment. 

291. (u.) Having said so much on the notions which we 
acquire of the objects of sense from the senses alone ; let us 
next consider what notions we can have of the operations of 
our minds, from consciousness alone. 

JUus. Consciousness is an internal sense, fArt. 24.J that gives 
the like immediate knowledge of things in the mind, that is, of our 
®wu thoughts and feelings, fllhts. Art. 100.J as the senses give 



phab. x. Of Judgment. 135 

us of things external, (Art. 103.J There is this difference, how- 
ever, that an external object may be at rest, and the sense may be 
employed about it for some time, (Illus. Art. 115. J But the 
objects of consciousness are never at rest ; the stream of thought 
flows like a river, without stopping for one moment ; the whole 
train of thought passes in succession under the eye of conscious- 
ness, which is always employed about the present. But is it con- 
sciousness that analyses complex operations, distinguishes their 
different ingredients, and combines them in distinct parcels, under 
general names ? — No. — (Art. 24. and Illus. Art. 48. J — This is not 
the work of consciousness, nor can it be performed without reflec- 
tion, (Art. 51.) recollecting and judging of what we were conscious, 
and what we distinctly remember. This reflection does not appear 
in children, and, of all the powers of the mind, it comes latest to 
maturity, whereas consciousness is coeval with the earliest. ( 06*. 
Art. 102. and Illus. Art. 129.) But this subject has been so suffi-. 
ciently handled in the fifth chapter of Book I. that further proof* 
in this place are unnecessary. 

292. (in.) We proposed, in the third place, to consider 
our notions of the relations of things: and here, it appears, 
that, without Judgment we cannot have any notion of rela- 
tions. 

Illus. 1. There are two ways in which we acquire the notion of 
relations. The Jirst is, by comparing the related objects, of which 
we have before had the conception. By this comparison we per- 
ceive the relation, either immediately, or by a process of reason- 
ing. 

Examples. That the fifth finger of my hand is shorter than the 
middle finger, I perceive immediately ; as well as that three is the 
half of six. This instantaneous perception is immediate and intu- 
itive Judgment. (See Art. 114. and 118.) The angles at the base 
of an isosceles triangle are equal, I perceive by a process of reason- 
ing, in which it will be acknowledged that there is Judgment. 
(See Illus. Art. 119.) 

Illus. 2. Another way in which we get the notions of relations, 
is, when, by attention to one of the related objects, we perceive, 
or judge, that it must, from its nature, have a certain relation to 
something else, which before perhaps we never thought of ; and 
thus our attention to one of the related objects produces the notion 
of a correlate, and of a certain relation between them. 

Example. Thus, when you attend to colour, figure, weight, you 
cannot help judging these to be qualities which cannot exist with- 
out a subject flHus. Art. 18.^); that is, something which is colour- 
ed, figured, heavy (See Illus. Art. 182.). If you had not perceived 
such things to be qualities, you would never have had any notion 
of their subject, or of their relation to it. (See the Illustrations t» 
Article 195.) 

Illus. 3. By attending to the operations of thinking, memory, 
reasoning, we perceive^, or judge, that there must be something 
which thinks, remembers, and reasons ; and this something we 
call the mind. (~Art. 5. J When we attend to any change that 



136 A Grammar of Logic. book it. 

happens in nature, Judgment informs us, that there must be a 
cause of this change, which had power to produce it; and thus we 
get the notions of cause and effect, and of the relation between them. 
fSee Art. 13. Ilhis. 1, 2, 3. J When we attend to body, we per- 
ceive that it cannot exist without space ; hence we get the notion 
of space, which is neither an object of sense nor of consciousness, 
and of the relation which bodies have to a certain portion of un- 
limited space, as their place. ('"See Art. 244. Illus. 3 and 4.J 

Corol. All our notions, therefore, of relations, may more pro- 
perly be ascribed to Judgment, as their source, and origin, than 
to any other power of the mind. For, weunust first perceive rela- 
tions by our Judgment, before we can conceive them without 
judging of them ; as we must first perceive colours by sight, be- 
fore we can conceive them without seeing them. 

Ulus. 4. The relations of unity and number are so abstract, that 
it is impossible they should enter into the mind until it has some 
degree of Judgment. We see with what difficulty, and how slow- 
ly, children learn to use, with understanding, the names even of 
small numbers, and how they exult in this acquisition whenever 
they have attained it. lively number is conceived by the relation 
which it bears to unity, or to known combinations of units; and, 
upon that account, as well as on account of its abstract nature, all 
distinct notions of it require some degree of Judgment. 

Corol. In Chapter IX. of this Book, it was clearly shewn how 
much Judgment enters, as an ingredient, into ail determinations of 
Taste ; and in Chapter XII. we shall have occasion to shew, that, 
in all moral determinations, and in many of our passions and affec- 
tions, Judgment is a necessary concomitant ; so that this faculty, 
after we come to those years in which reason exercises its powers, 
mingles with most of the operations of our minds, and, in analysing 
them, cannot be overlooked without confusion and error. 



CHAPTER XL 

OF REASON. 

I. Definition and Analysis of this Faculty. 
293. Reason is the faculty by which we are made ac- 
quainted with abstract or necessary truth ; and enabled to 
discover the essential relations of things. 

Obs. The power of Reasoning is very nearly allied to that of 
judging ; and, in the common affairs of life, the same term is appli- 
ed to both. We include both under the name of Reason. 

Illus. The distinction that has been made between Judgment and 
Reasoning, is not perhaps founded so much in any natural diversity 
of the nature or the objects of .the faculties, as in the various man- 
ner in which the same faculty is occasionally applied. This, then, 



6hap. xr. Of Reason. \37 

seems to be the foundation of the distinction. When the truth 
which is asserted, or the falsity which is denied, is , s rfi ctly obvi- 
ous, and requires little or no examination, the facult) is then cc r. 
monly called Judgment (Art. 278. Illus. \.J ; but, when the tri th 
which is asserted, or the falsity which is denied, is more remote 
from common apprehension, and requires a careful examination, 
the faculty has then been dignified with the name of Reasoning: 

Corol. 1. Reasoning being - then the process by which we pas - ; 
from one judgment to another, which is a consequence of the pre- 
ceding; our judgments are distinguished into Ixxurnvr., which 
are not grounded upon any preceding judgment, and DiscunsTvr, 
which are deduced from some preceding judgment by Reasoning. 

2. In all Reasoning, therefore, there must be a preposition infer- 
red, and one or more from which it is inferred. And this power 
of inferring, or drawing a conclusion, is only another name for 
Reasoning; the proposition inferred, being called the conclusion. 
and the proposition, or propositions, from which that conclusion 
has been inferred, being called tire premise?. 

294. Reasoning may consist of many steps ; the first 
conclusion being a premise to the second, the second to a 
third, and so on, till we come to the last conclusion. A 
process, consisting of many steps of this kind, is so easily 
distinguished from judgment, that it is never called by that 
name. But when there is only a single, step to the conclu- 
sion, the distinction is less obvious, and the process is, as 
we have shewn above, sometimes called Judgment, some- 
times Reasoning. 

Obs. The Logicians themselves, as well as the illiterate, some- 
times confound Judgment with Reasoning, though their definition 
of both be, in general terms, what we have now (Art. 294.J ex- 
pressed. So various indeed are the modes of speech, that what in 
one mode is expressed by two or three propositions, may, in an- 
other, be expressed by one. 

Example. Thus 1 may say, God is good ,■ there fire all good men 
shall be happy. This species of Reasoning the Logicians call an 
Enthymeme, as it consists of an antecedent proposition, and a con- 
clusion drawn from it. But this reasoning may be expressed '•) 
one proposition, thus : Because God is good, good men shall he hap- 
py. This other species of Reasoning they call a casual "proposition, 
which therefore expresses judgment ; yet the Enthymeme, which 
is Reasoning, expresses no more. 

295. Reasoning, as welj as Judgment, must be true or 
false, [Art. 45.) ; both are founded upon evidence, which 
may be probable or demonstrative [Art. 302.), and both 
are accompanied with assent or belief. (Illus. Art. 48.) 

Obs. What Reasoning is, can be understood only by a man who 
has reasoned, and who is capable of reflecting upon the. operations 

IS 



iob A Grammar of Logic ugok. iia 

of his own mind. We can define it only by synonymous words, or 
phrases, such as inferring, drawing a conclusion, and sucli like. 

Carol. The very notion, therefore, of Reasoning 1 , can enter into 
the mind by no other channel than that of reflecting upon the ope- 
ration of Reasoning 1 in our own minds, and the notions of Premises 
and Conclusions, of a Syllogism, and all its constituent parts, of an 
Enthymeme, of Sorites, Demonstration, Paralogism, and many other 
technical terms of logic, have the same origin. 

296. The faculty of Reasoning is undoubtedly the gift of 
Nature j and in vain shall we attempt to supply the want of 
this gift where it is not, by art or education. In different 
Individuals this faculty will be found in different degrees ; 
yet the power of Reasoning seems to be acquired by habit, 
as much as the power of walking, running, or swimming. 

Illus. We are not able to recollect its Jirst exertions in ourselves, 
nor clearly to discern them in others ; because they are then feeble, 
and need to be led by example, and supported by authority. But, by 
degrees; the faculty acquires strength, chiefly by means of imita- 
tion and exercise. 

297. The exercise of Reasoning on various subjects, not 
only strengthens the faculty, but furnishes the mind with 
stores of materials. 

Illus. 1. Every train of Reasoning which is familiar, becomes a 
beaten track, or pathway of many others. It removes many obsta- 
cles which lie in our way, and smooths many roads which wc may 
have occasion to travel in future disquisitions. 

2. When men of equal parts apply their reasoning powers to 
any subject, the man who has reasoned muck on the same, or on 
similar subjects, has a like advantage over him who has not, as the 
mechanic, who lias all the tools of his art, has over him who has 
his tools to make, or even to invent. 

293. In a train of Reasoning, the evidence of every step, 
where nothing is left to be supplied by the reader or the 
hearer, must be immediately discernible to every man of 
ripe understanding, who has a distinct comprehension of the 
premises and conclusions, and who compares them together. 

Obs. To be able to comprehend, hi one view, a combination of 
steps of this kind is more difficult, and seems to require a superior 
natural ability; yet, in all of us, it may be much improved by habit. 

299. But the highest talent in Reasoning is the Invention 
of -proofs j by which truths remote from the premises are 
brought to light. 

Cbs. In all works of understanding, Invention has the highest 
praise TArt. 26. Illus. J ; it requires an extensive view of what re- 
lates to the .subject, and a quickness in discerning those affinities 
and relations which may be subservient to the purpose. (See 
. 2rt. 264. Illus. 1 and 2. and Corol. 1 and 2.) 



chap. xi. Of Reasoa. 139 

500. In all Invention there must be some end in view ; 
and Sagacity in finding out the road that leads to that end, 
is, properly speaking, what we call Invention. 

Obs. In this chiefly, and in clear and distinct conceptions, con- 
sist that superiority of understanding' which we have called Gcnin.:. 
f See Art. 265. L'hts.J 

301. In every chain of Reasoning, the evidence of the 
last conclusion can be no greater than that of the weakest 
link of the chain, whatever may lie the strength of the rest. 

See Art. 294. Obs. and Example.) 

302. Reasonings r>.re either probable or demonstrative. 
•■See Art. 295. Illus.) 

i. In every step of demonstrative Reasoning, the inference 
is necessary, and we perceive it to be impossible that the 
conclusion should not follow from the premises. 

II. In probable Reasoning, the connexion between ihe 
premises and the conclusion is not necessary, nor do we 
perceive it to be impossible that the first should be true 
while the last is false. 

Corol. Hence demonstrative Reasoning- has no degrees, nor can 
one demonstration be stronger than another, though, in relation to 
our faculties, one may be more easily comprehended than another. 
Every demonstration gives equal strength to the conclusion, and 
leaves no possibility of its being false. 

II. Analysis cf Demonstrative Reasoning. 

303. Demonstrative Reasoning can be applied only to 
truths that are necessary, and not to those that are contingent. 

Obs. Of all created things, the existence, the attributes, and, 
consequently, the relations resulting from those attributes, are 
contingent. They depend on the power and will of him who 
made them. These are matters of fact, and admit not of demon- 
stration. 

Corol. The field cf Demonstrative Reasoning, therefore, is the 
various relations of thing's abstract ,■ that is to say, cf tilings which 
we conceive, without regard to their existence. We have a clear 
and adequate comprehension of these, as they are conceived by 
the mind, and are nothing but what they are conceived to be. 
Their relations and attributes are immutable. 

Obs. 1. They are the things to which the Pythagoreans and 
Platonists gave the name of ideas ; and, if we take leave to bor- 
row this meaning of the word idea from those ancient philosophers, 
we must then agree with them that, ideas are the only objects about 
■which v>e can reason demonstratively. 

2. There are many even of our ideas about which we can carry 
on no considerable train of reasoning; let them be ever so well de- 
fined, ever so perfectly comprehended, their agreements and disa- 
greements are few, and these are discernible at once. A step or 



140 Ji Grammar of Logic, book ^i. 

jwo brings us to the conclusion, and there we are stopped. (Ex- 
ample 294.) There are others, about which we may, by a long' 
train of demonstrative Reasoning", arrive at conclusions very remote 
and unexpected. 

304. Demonstrative Reasonings are reducible to two 
Masses : 

1. They are either Metaphysical, 
II. Or they are Mathematical. 

Illus. 1. In Metaphysical Reasoning, the process is always short. 
The conclusion is but a step or two, seldom more, from the first 
principle, or axiom, on which it is grounded, and the different con- 
clusions depend one upon another. 

2. In Mathematical Reasoning, on the contrary, the field has no 
limits. One proposition leads on to a second, that to a third, and 
so on, without end. And the reason why demonstrative Reasoning 
lias such extensive limits in the Mathematics, is owing chiefly to 
the nature of quantity, which is the object of Mathematical Reason- 
ing. 

Example 1. Every quantity, as it has magnitude, and is divisible 
into parts without end ; so, in respect of its magnitude, it has a cer- 
tain ratio to every quantity of that kind. The ratios of quantities 
afe innumerable ; such as a half, a third, a fourth, a tenth, double, 
triple, quadruple, centuple, and so on. All the powers of number 
are insufficient to express the varieties of ratios. For there are in- 
numerable ratios which cannot be expressed perfectly by numbers; 
such as, the ratio of the side to the diagonal of a square, of the cir- 
cumference of a circle to its diameter. And, of this infinite variety 
of ratios, every ratio may be clearly conceived, and distinctly ex- 
pressed, so that it shall not be mistaken for any other. 

2. Extended quantities, such as lines, surfaces, solids, besides 
the variety of relations they have in respect of magnitude, have no 
less variety in respect of; figure; and every Mathematical figure 
may be accurately defined, so as to be distinguished from every 
other fig'ure. 

Illus. 3. There is nothing of this kind in other objects of abstract 
Reasoning. Some of them have various degrees ; but these are not 
capable of measure, nor can they be said to have an assignable ra- 
tio to others of the kind. They are either simple, or compounded 
of a few indivisible parts ; and, therefore, if we may be allowed the 
expression, touch only in a few points. But Mathematical quanti- 
ties being" made up of parts without number, can touch in innume- 
rable points, and be compared in innumerable different ways. 

305. Some Demonstrations are called direct, others in- 
direct. 

Illus, 1. Every Youth acquainted with the elements of Euclid, 
knows that Direct Demonstration leads straight forward to the con- 
clusion to be drawn, while the indirect arrives at the proof by a pro- 
position contradictory to that which is to be proved. The inference 
drawn from Demonstration ad absjirdum, is grounded on an axiom 
in logic, " That of two contradictory propositions, if one be false., 
the other must be true." 



hi. xi. Of Reason. 14 i 

2. Another kind of indirect Demonstration proceeds by enume- 
rating all the suppositions that can possibly be made concerning 
the proposition to be proved, and then demonstrating - , that, except 
that which is to be proved, all of them are false ; whence it fol- 
lows, tiiat the excepted proposition is true. 

Example. Thus one line is proved to be equal to another, by 
proving first that it cannot be greater ; and then that it cannot be 
less ; for it must be either greater, or less, or equal ; and two of 
>hese suppositions being demonstrated to be false, the third must 
be true. 

III. Analysis of Probable Reasoning. 

306. The field of Demonstration, as has been shewn, is 
necessary truth ; the field of probable reasoning is con- 
tingent truth, not what necessarily must be at all times, but 
what is, or was, or shall be. 

307. No contingent truth is capable of strict Demonstra- 
tion ; but necessary truths may sometimes have probable 
evidence. 

Jllus. 1. Dr. Wallis discovered many important truths, by that 
kind of induction which draws a general conclusion from particular 
premises. This is not strict Demonstration, but, in some cases, it 
gives as full conviction as Demonstration itself; and a man may be 
certain, that a truth is demonstrable before it ever lias been demon- 
strated, (.irt.13'3. Jllus.) In other cases, a Mathematical propo- 
sition may have such probable evidence from induction or analogy, 
as encourages the mathematician to investigate its Demonstration, 
{.[Hits. 2. Art. 304.) But still the Reasoning proper to Mathemat- 
ical and other necessary truths, is Demonstration ; and that which is 
proper to contingent truths, is Probable Reasoning'. 

2. These two kinds of Reasoning differ in other respects. First. 
h\ demonstrative Reasoning - , one argument is as good as a thousand. 
One Demonstration may be more elegant than another; it may be 
more easily comprehended, or it may be more subservient to some 
purpose beyond the present. On any of these accounts it may de- 
serve a preference. But then, it is sufficient by itself; it needs no 
aid from another ; it can receive none. To add more demonstra- 
tions of the same conclusion, would be a kind of tautology in Rea- 
soning; because one demonstration, clearly comprehended, gives 
all the Evidence we are capable of receiving-. 

Secondly. The strength of Probable Reasoning 1 , for the most part, 
depends not upon any one argument, but upon many, which unite 
their force, and lead to the same conclusion. Any one of them by 
itself would be insufficient to convince ; but the whole taken to- 
g-ether may have a force that is irresistible, so that to desire more 
Evidence would he absurd. Who, for example, would seek new 
Arguments to prove that there were such persons as M;iria Antoi- 
nette and Queen Charlotte ; or Charles the First and Oliver Crom- 
well ? 

Carol. Such Evidence of Probable Reasoning- may be compared 



i42 A Gramma/' of Logic. book n, 

to a rope made up of many slender filaments twisted together.—- 
The rope has strength more than sufficient to bear the stress laid 
upon it, though no one of the filaments of which it is composed 
would be sufficient of itself for that purpose. 

308. It is unreasonable to require Demonstration for 
things which do not admit of it ; nor is it less unreasonable 
to require reasoning of any kind for things which are known 
without Reasoning. All Reasoning must be grounded upon 
truths which are known without Reasoning. 

Illus. In every branch of real knowledge, there must be first 
principles, the truth of which is known intuitively, without Reason- 
ing - , either Probable or Demonstrative, (Jlrt. 45.) They are not 
grounded on reasoning, but all reasoning is grounded on them. 
There avejirst principles of necessary truths, {Illus. 1. & 2. Art. 52.) 
and first principles of contingent truths, (Obs. and Carol. Jlrt. 60.) 
Demonstrative Reasoning is grounded upon the former, and Proba,~ 
Me Reasoning upon the latter. 

509. Probable Evidence has a popular meaning, which 
we must not confound with the philosophical meaning above 
explained. 

Mils. 1. In common language, Probable Evidence is considered 
.as an inferior degree of Evidence, and is opposed to certainty; so 
that -iuhat is only probable is not certain. Philosophers consider Pro- 
bable Evidence not as a degree, but as a species of Evidence which 
is opposed, not to certainty, but to another species of Evidence., 
called Demonstration. 

2. Demonstrative Evidence has no degrees ; but Probable Evi- 
dence, taken ill the Philosophical sense, has all degrees, from the 
very least to the greatest, which we call certainty. 

Example. That there is such a city as Edinburgh,. I am as certain., 
as of any proposition in my Euclid ; but the Evidence is not de- 
monstrative, but of that kind which philosophers call probable. Yet,. 
in common language, it WouH' sound oddly in me to say to Mr. Gil- 
bert, my Printer, that, " It is probable there is such a city as Edin- 
burgh," because it would imply some degree of doubt or uncer- 
tainty. 

Carol. Taking Probable Evidence, therefore, in the philosophical 
sense, as it is opposed to demonstrative,, it may have any degree 
of Evidence, from the least to the greatest. 

310. In most cases, we measure the degrees of evidence- 
by the effect they have upon a sound understanding, when 
comprehended clearly, and without prejudice. 

Jllus. Every degree of evidence perceived by the mind, produ- 
ces a proportional degree of assent, or belie£ The judgment may be 
in perfect suspense between two contradictory opinions, when 
there is no Evidence for either, or equal Evidence for both. The 
teast preponderancy on one side inclines the judgment in propor- 
tion. Belief is rojxed with doubt, more or less, until we come t<* 



chap. xi. Of Reason. 143 

the highest degree of Evidence, when all doubt vanishes, and the 
belief is firm and immoveable. This degree of Evidence, the high- 
est the human faculties can attain, we call certainty. 

IV. Division of Probable Evidence into different Kinds. 

311. Probable evidence not only differs in kind from 
demonstrative, but is itself of different kinds. 

Obs. Without pretending to make the enumeration complete, wc 
select, from Dr. lieid, the following kinds of Probable Evidence. 

1. The Evidence of human testimony, upon which the greater 
part of knowledge is built. 

II. The authority of those who are good judges of the point in 
question. 

III. That whereby we recognize the identity of things, and per- 
sons of our acquaintance. 

IV. That which we have of men's future actions and conduct, 
from the general principles of action in man, or from our know- 
ledge of the individuals. 

V. That by which we collect men's characters and designs from 
their actions, speech, and other external signs. 

VI. That which mathematicians call the Probability of Chances. 

VII. That by which the known laws of Nature have been disco- 
vered, and the effects which have been produced by them, in for- 
mer ages, or which may be expected in time to come. Now, to 
illustrate these different kinds of probable Evidence. 

512. (i.) The probable evidence of human testimony i.- 
that upon which the greatest part of human knowledge is 
built. 

Illus. 1. The faith of history is built upon it, as well as the judg- 
ment of solemn tribunals with regard to men's acquired rights, and 
with regard to their guilt or innocence, when they are charged with 
ci-imes. A g'reat part of the business of the judge, of the counsel 
at the bar, of the historian, of the critic, and of the antiquarian, is, 
to canvass and weigh this kind of Evidence ; and no man can act 
with common prudence in the ordinary occurrences of life, who has 
not some competent judgment of it. (See Art. 64. Illus. 1, 2, 3. and 
Corol.J 

2. The belief which, in many cases, we give to testimony, is not 
solely grounded upon the veracity of the testifier. In a single tes- 
timony, we consider the motives which a witness might have to 
falsify, if there be no appearance of any such motive, much more, 
if there be motives on the other side, his testimony has weight in- 
dependent of his moral character. If the testimony be circumstan- 
tial, we consider how far the circumstances agree together, and with 
tilings that are known. It is so very difficult to fabricate a story, 
which cannot be detected by a judicious examination of the cir- 
cumstances, that circumstantial testimony always acquires evidence 
by being able to bear such a trial. There is an art in judicial pro- 
ceedings, in detecting false evidence, well known to able judges 



144 .ft Grammar of Logic. book 11. 

and barristers, so that we daily hear of v^tnesses leaving' behind 
them at the bar a suspicion of perjury. 

Corol. Where there is an agreement of many witnesses, in a great 
variety of circumstances, without the possibility of a previous coi> 
cert, the Evidence may be equal to that of Demonstration. 

313. (n.) A second kind of Probable Evidence, is, the 
authority of those who are good judges of the point in 
question. 

Mtia. The supreme court of judicature of the British nation, (the 
Parliament,) is often determined by the opinion of lawyers, in a 
point of law; of physicians, in a point of medicine ; and of other 
artists in what relates to their several professions. And, in the 
common affairs of life, we frequently rely upon the judgment of 
others in points of which we are not proper judges ourselves. 

314. (in.) A third kind of Probable Evidence, is, that by 
which we recognize the identity of things, and persons of 
our acquaintance. 

Illus. That two swords, two horses, two men, may be so perfect- 
ly alike, as not to be distinguishable by those to whom they are best 
known, cannot be shown to be impossible. Who that has not, from 
this identity, mistaken, in the street, an entire stranger for a friend? 
But we learn, either from nature, or from experience, that it never 
happens, or so very rarely, that a person, or thing, well known to 
us, is immediately recognized without any doubt, when we perceive 
the marks or signs by which we were wont to distinguish him or it 
from all other individuals of the kind. 

Corol. This Evidence we rely upon in the most important affairs 
of life; and, By this Evidence, the identity both of things and of 
persons, is determined in courts of judicature. (See Jlrt.116. Mjis.2.) 

315. (iv.) A fourth kind of Probable Evidence, is, that 
which we have of men's future actions and conduct, from the 
general prinoiples of action in man, or from our know- 
ledge of the individuals. (See Art. 87. Illus. 1 and 2.) 

Illus. 1. In spite of all the folly and vice that we behold among" 
our species, there is a certain degree of prudence and probity upon 
which we rely, in every man that is not an inhabitant of a mad- 
house. The pupil may find, in his own experience, a thousand 
examples to confirm this illustration. Men are not so much dispos- 
ed to hurt as to do g - ood to each other ; to lie as to speak truth, 
else would the race soon perish : there is, therefore, notwithstand- 
ing the absurd dogmas of some fanatics, a greater share of good than 
of evil, and of truth than of falsehood, in the world. 

2. We expect that men will take some care of themselves, of 
their family, their friends, and reputation : that they will not injure 
others without some temptation : that they will have some gratitude 
for good offices, and some resentment of injuries. 

Corol. Such maxims, with regard to human conduct, are the 
foundation of all political reasoning, and of common prudence in 
the conduct of life. 



chap. xi. UJ Reason. 145 

316. (v.) Another kind of Probable Evidnce, the coun- 
terpart of the last, is, that by -which we collect men's cha- 
racters and designs from their actions, speech, and other 
external signs. (See Illus. 1 and 2. Art. 87.) 

■ Illus. We see not the hearts of men, nor are the principles by 
which they are actuated labelled on their forehead ; but there are 
external signs of their principles and dispositions, which, though 
not certain, may sometimes be more trusted than their professions ; 
and it is from external signs that we must draw all the knowledge 
which we can attain of men's characters. 

317. (vi.) The next kind of Probable Evidence we men- 
tioned, is, that which mathematicians call the Probability 
of Chances. 

Illus. Chance is not commonly understood, either in philosphy or 
;n vulgar language, to imply the exclusion of a cause, but our igno- 
rance of the cause. When the term is employed to denote bare 
possibility of an event, when nothing is known either to produce or 
hinder it ; in this meaning it can never be made the subject of cal- 
culation. In the former sense are understood all the chances about 
which my friend Mr. G. Davies, or any other mathematician reasons, 
in the calculations of assurances, annuities, reversions, &c. 

Example. In throwing a die upon a table, we say there is an 
equal chance which of the six sides shall be turned up ; because 
neither the person who throws, nor the bystanders, can know the 
precise measure of force and direction necessary to turn up one side 
rather than another. There are here, therefore, six events, one of 
which must happen ; and as all are supposed to have equal proba- 
bility, the probability of any one side being turned up, the ace, for 
instance, is as one to the remaining number five. The probability 
of turning up two aces with two dice, is as one to thirty-foe ; because 
here there are thirty -six events, each of which has equal probability. 

Corol. 1. Upon such principles as these, the doctrine of chances 
has furnished a field of Demonstrative Reasoning of great extent, 
although the events about which this Reasoning is employed, be 
not necessary, but contingent ,■ and be not certain, but probable. 

2. This may seem to contradict a principle before advanced, that 
contingent truths are not capable of demonstration fArt. 307. Illus. 
1.); but it does not .- — For, in the Mathematical Reasonings about 
chance, the conclusion demonstrated is not, that such an event shall 
happen, but that the probability of its happening bears such a ratio 
to the probability of its failing ; and tins conclusion is necessary 
upon the suppositions on which it is grounded. 

318. (vn.) The last kind of Probable Evidence we enu- 
merated, is, that by which t\\c known laia8ofrUtfure.ha.ve 
been discovered, and the effects which have been produced 
by them in former ages, or which may be expected in time to 
come. (See Illus. Art. 45.) 

Ilhts. 1. The laws of Nature arc the rules by which the Supreme 



146 A Grammar of Logic, book n. 

Being 1 governs the world. We deduce them only from facts which 
fall within our own observation, or are properly attested by those 
who have observed them. (See Art. 74. JUus.J 

2. The knowledge of some of these laws is necessary to all men, 
and all men soon discover them. Who does not know that fire 
burns, that water drowns, that bodies gravitate towards the earth ; 
that day and night, spring and autumn, regularly succeed each 
other? As far back as our experience and information reach, we 
know that these have happened ; and, upon this ground, we are led, 
by the constitution of human nature, to expect that they will 
happen in time to come, in like circumstances, flllus. Art. 75.) 

3. The knowledge which the philosopher attains of the laws of 
nature, differs from that of the vulgar, not in the first principles on 
which it is grounded, but in its extent and accuracy. He collects 
with care the phenomena that lead to the same conclusion, and 
compares them with those that seem to contradict or to limit it. 
He observes the circumstances on which every phenomenon de- 
pends, and distinguishes them carefully from those that are acci- 
dentally conjoined with it. He puts natural bodies in various 
situations, and applies them to one another in various ways, on 
purpose to observe the effect ; and thus acquires from his senses a 
more extensive knowledge of the course of nature, in a short time, 
than covdd be collected by casual observation in many ages. 

4. The result of his laborious researches is then barely this : — as 
far as he has been able to observe, such things have always hap- 
pened, in such circumstances, and such bodies have always been 
found to have such properties. These are matters of fact, attested 
by sense and memory, and testimony, just as the few facts which 
the vulgar know are attested to them. 

5. And the conclusions which the philosopher draws from the 
facts which he has collected, are barely these : — that like events 
have happened in former times, in like circumstances, and will 
happen in time to come ; and these conclusions are built on the 
very ground on which the simple rustic concludes that the sun will 
rise to-morrow. (See Art. 76. Carol.) 

6. Facts reduced to general rules, and the consequences of those 
general rules, are all that we really know of the material world. 
And the Evidence that such general rules have no exceptions, as 
well as the Evidence that they will be the same in time to come as 
they have been in time past, can never be demonstrative. It is 
only that species of Evidence which philosophers call probable. 
General rules may have exceptions, or limitations, which no man 
ever had occasion to observe. The laws of nature may be changed 
by Him who established them. But we are led, by our constitution, 
to rely upon their continuance with as little doubt as if it were 
demonstrable. 

JVote. The foregoing classification of Probable Evidence makes it 
incumbent on me that I enumerate also a few of the Jirst principles, 
or intuitive truths, which other philosophers have laid down as the 
bases of Evidence j and the more so as the sophistry of all knaves 
is founded on the perversion, or the setting aside, of^such first 
principles. 

3 1 9. Father Buffier, a name entitled to the highest 






CHAP. XI. Of Reason, i-k" 

encomium, finds two great sources from which lie derives his 
first principles, viz. 

i. The consciousness we have of oar own thoughts. 

II. Caramon sense; — a phraseology which he employs in 
the common acceptation of language, as denoting the/acuity 
by which men form judgments on the ordinary objects of their 
experience, which are not proper subjects of consciousness. 

320. The following, though not perhaps a complete enu- 
meration, are the examples of this good man's principles of 
common sense*. 

I. There are other beings, and other men in the world besides 
myself. 

II. There is in them something- that is called truth, wisdom, pru- 
dence ; and this something" is not merely arbitrary. (See Art. 58. 
Carol. J 

III. There is in me something that I call intelligence, or mind j 
and something which is not that intelligence, or mind, and which is 
named body ,■ so that each possesses properties different from the 
other. (See Art. 52. and 54.) 

IV. What is generally said and taught by men in all ages and 
countries of the world is true, fAri. 60.) 

V. All men have not combined to deceive and impose upon me. 

VI. What is not intelligence, or mind, cannot produce all the 
effects of intelligence or mind; neither can a fortuitous jumble of 
particles of matter form a work of such order, and so regular mo- 
tion, as a watch. ( Carol. Art. 73.) 

321. This original thinker mentions three qualities, or 
tests, by which first truths, or maxims of common sense, may 
be distinguished from all others. 

I. They are so clear, that they cannot be proved by any thing 
clearer. 

II. They have been admitted in all countries, and at all times, with 
exceedingly few exceptions. 

III. They are so strongly imprinted in our minds, that we regu- 
late our conduct by them, in spite of all the speculative refinements 
of that philosophy which denies them. 

Obs. This illustrious genius lived in the beginning of the last 
century. Buffier considers the testimony of the senses as at best 
affording but Probable Evidence, and by no means entitled to be 
ranked on the footing of certain and intuitive truth ; and he places 
the evidence of Memory on the same level as the evidence of sense. 
As far as I have been able to ascertain, he was the first who suc- 
cessfully taught the important science of first truths, in opposition 
to the career of scepticism that then stalked over Europe. To M. 
Buffer's writings may be traced some of the finest thoughts which 
sparkle like diamonds in the productions of Drs. Beid, Beattic.. 
Campbell, and Palc-y. 

* See his " Traite des Premiers Veritcs ct de la Source des nos 
Judgmens." 



148 t# Grammar of Logic. bock ii. 

322. Dr. Beattie, in his " Essay on. the Immutability of 
Truth," makes many observations on the nature of Evi- 
dence, the grounds of rational Belief, and the different kinds 
of Truth. In this work the author proposes the following 
enumeration of the various kinds of evidence and sources oi 
belief. 

I. Mathematical Evidence. 

II. The evidence of External Sense. 
IK. The evidence of Consciousness. 
TV. The evidence of Memory. 

V. That evidence which we have, when from effects, -ue infer causes. 

VI- Probable Evidence. 

VII. The evidence of Testimony. 

Obs. 1. The first five he states to be certain and intuitive truths, 
or maxims of common sense. The remaining 1 two, he likewise con- 
siders intuitive truths, or maxims of sense, but which Dr. Reid holds 
to be only probable, and not certain ; and he divides the sixth class 
into two species. 

1st. The evidence by which we judge of future events by our 
past experience from similar events ; and, 

2dly. The evidence of analogy. 

Obs. 2. In Dr. Campbell's " Philosophy of Rhetoric," (which 
proceeded from the same school, at the head of which is Father 
Buffier, and which gave birth to the writings of Reid and Beattie,) 
are ably handled, with the greatest similarity of sentiments to Dr. 
Reid, the two kinds of evidence, Intuitive and Deductive. 

323. According to Dr. Campbell, intuitive evidence is 
that which is admitted immediately, on a bare attention to 
the ideas under review ; and deductive, which is admitted 
mediately, by a comparison of these with other ideas. 

Illus. 1. Intuitive evidence the Doctor arranges under three 
heads. 

1. Mathematical axioms, which he states to be the result of 
pure Intellection. 

II. Consciousness ; and, 

III. Common sense ; under which last he comprehends both the 
evidence of Sense and Memory. 

2. Deductive evidence is founded upon the Intuitive ; and Dr. 
Campbell considers it as of two kinds : — First, that which is foun- 
ded upon the axioms of pure intellection ; and, Secondly, that 
which is founded upon the dictates of consciousness and common 
sense, which he calls Moral or Probable Evidence, and divides 
into — 

I. The knowledge we derive from experience. 

II. That from analogy. 

III. That from testimony ; and, 

IV. The calculation of chances ; which last he considers as a 
mixed kind of evidence, partly certain, and partly probable only. 

J\ r ote. Truth is one, in which we have all a common property ; 



vhav. xii. Of Moral Perception. 149 

and the greatest pleasure I have in closing this Chapter, is, to refer 
my readers to the writings of those celebrated men whose names I 
have mentioned, and to the " Elements of the Philosophy of the 
Human Mind," by Mr. Stewart. These productions are so many 
altars of truth : the live coal on which is common sense — its vestal. 
Season. 



CHAPTER XII. 

OF MORAL PERCEPTION. 

324. Moral Perception is the faculty which determines 
the choice of a rational being, as to what is good for him 
upon the whole, and what appears to be duty. 

Obs. 1. That there is such a faculty as Moral Perception in man, 
I take for granted, on two grounds ; first, because he is endowed 
with Consciousness, Memory, and Judgment ; Secondly, because 
this faculty can have no existence but in a being endowed with 
Reason and all the other faculties, upon which, as principles or 
auxiliaries, it displays its exertions, in the various acts of Intention, 
of Will, and of Judgment. 

2. This faculty spreads before our view a wide and variegated 
field of discursive inquiry and illustration, and we shall therefore 
arrange it under several sections. 

I. TJie Rationed Principles of Action in Man. 

325. There can be no exercise of reason without judg- 
ment; nor, on the other hand, any judgment of things 
abstract and general, without some degree of reason. 

Corol. If, therefore, there be in the human constitution any 
principles of action, which, in their nature, necessarily imply such 
judgment, they are the principles which we may call rational, to 
distinguish them from animal principles, which imply desire and 
will, but not judgment. 

326. Every deliberate action must be done either as the 
'means, or as an end ; as the means to some end to which it 
is subservient, or as an end for its own sake, and without 
regard to any thing beyond itself; and that it is a part of 
the office of reason to determine what are the proper means 
to any end which we desire, no man ever denied. The 
philosophers, who assign to Taste, or Feeling, the office 
which we assign to Reason, cease to consider Reason a 
principle of action. 

14 



150 $. Grammar of Logic. book u* 

Obs. We shall, therefore, endeavour to shew, that, among - the 
various ends of human actions, there are some of which, withoxit 
Reason we could not even form a conception ; and that, as soon as 
they arc perceived, a regard to them is, by our constitution, not 
only a principle of action, but a leading and governing principle, to 
which all our animal principles are subservient, and to which they 
ought to be subject. 

Corol. These we call rational principles, because they can only 
exist in beings endowed with Reason ; and because, to act from 
those principles, is, what has always been meant by acting accor- 
ding to Reason. 

327. The ends of human actions which we have here in 
view, are two. 

First. What is good for us upon the whole. 
Secondly. And what appears to be duty. 

II. Of regard to our good on the ivhole. 

328. It will not be denied, that as soon as we come to 
years of understanding, we are led, by our rational powers, 
to form the conception of what is good for us upon the whole. 

Obs. The general notion of good, which enters the mind at an 
early age, is one of the most general and abstract notions we form. 

329. Whatever makes a man more happy, or more per- 
fect, is good, and is an object of desire as soon as he is ca- 
pable of forming the conception of it. The contrary is ill, 
and is an object of aversion. In other words, the neglect of 
good is in moral actions, matter of indignation or blame. 

Corol. Hence Mohal Laws may be considered under different 
aspects, and distinguished by different titles. 

I. Considered in respect to their source, they maybe distinguish- 
ed as original, or natural, or adventitious, or conventional. 

II. Considered in respect to their subjects, they may be distin- 
guished by denominations taken from those subjects ; as, laws of 
religion, or of society, — as laivs of peace or of war ; — as, laws politi- 
cal, civil, or criminal. 

III. Considered in respect to the persons to whom they are appli- 
cable, they are laws of nations, or the laws of particular states. 

330. Moral philosophy is, thence, the knowledge of Mo- 
ral laws, respecting their sources and their applications. 

Obs. The obligation of every law, whether original or adventi- 
tious, general or partial, may be resolved into an obligation of the 
law of nature. And the frst, or fundamental, law of nature to man- 
kind, is, an expression of the greatest good competent to man's 
nature. All subsequent laws are branches or applications of this. 

331. That which, taken with all its discoverable connex- 
ions and consequences, brings more good than ill, we call 
good upon the WHOLE. 



chap. xii. Of Moral Perception. 151 

Ittus. There is no reason to believe that brute animals have any 
conception of this. Nor do we ourselves have any conception of 
what is g'ood for us on the whole, till reason be so far advanced, 
that we can seriously reflect upon the past, and take a prospect of 
the future part of our existence. 

Carol. It appears, therefore, that the very conception of what is 
good or ill for us upon the whole, is the offspring- of reason, and 
can only be in being's endowed with reason. And if this concep- 
tion give rise to any principle of action in man, which he had not 
before, that principle may very properly be called a rational princi- 
ple of action. (See the first Book of Cicero's Offices.) 

332. As soon as we have the conception of what is good 
or ill for us upon the whole, we are led, by our constitution, 
to seek the good and avoid the ill ; and this becomes not 
only a principle of action, but a leading or governing 
principle, to which all our animal principles ought to be 
subordinate. 

Hlus. 1. In intelligent beings the desire of what is good, and the 
aversion of what is ill, is necessarily connected with the intelligent 
nature ; and it is a contradiction to suppose such a being to have the 
notion of good without the desire of it, or the notion of ill without an 
aversion to it., 

2. To prefer a greater good, though distant, to a less good that 
is present—to choose a present evil, in order to avoid a greater evil, 
or to obtain a greater good,— is, in the judgment of all men, wise 
and reasonable conduct; and, when a man acts the contrary part, 
all men will acknowledge that he acts foolishly and unreasonably. 

3. No man was ever drawn one way by his animal principles, lead- 
ing him to vicious indulgence, without at the same time experien- 
cing the reflection, that a regard to what is good on the whole, pul- 
led, though feebly, in the contrary direction. 

4. That in every conflict of this kind, the rational principle 
ought to prevail, and the animal to be subordinate, is too evident to 
need proof. 

Corol. Thus, it appears, that to pursue what is good upon the 
whole, and to avoid what is ill upon the whole, is a rational princi- 
ple of action, grounded upon our constitution as reasonable crea- 
tures. 

333. It appears, that it is not without just cause, that this 
principle of action has, in all ages, been called Reason, in 
opposition to our animal principles, which, though alike the 
gittofthe Author of our existence, are, in common language, 
called by the general name of Passions.* 

Illus The frst not only operates in a calm and cool manner, like 
reason, but implies real judgment in all its operations. The second, to 
wit, the passions, are blind desires, of some particular object, with- 
out any judgment or consideration, whether it be good or ill for us 
upon the -whole. J 

■ See Cogan's Philosophical and Ethical Treatises on the Passions. 



*52 .# Grammar of Logic: book n> 

334. It appears also, that the fundamental maxim of pru- 
dence, and of all good morals — That the passions ought, in 
all cases, to be under the dominion of reason — is not only 
self-evident, when rightly understood, but is expressed ac- 
cording to the common use and propriety of language. 

Obs. To judge of what is true or false in speculative points, is 
the office of speculative reason,- and to judge of what is good or 
dl for us upon the whole, is the office of practical reason. Of true 
and false there are no degrees .• but of good and ill there are many 
degrees, and many kinds ; and we are very apt to form erroneous 
opinions concerning them ; misled by our passions, by the authori- 
ty of others, {Art. 240. Jlhis.) and by other causes. (See the Influ- 
ence of Arbitrary Associations, as it affects our Moral Judgments, 
p. 101 and 102.) 

335. Wise men, in all ages, have reckoned it a chief 
point of wisdom, to nfake a right estimate of the good and 
evils of life. They have laboured to discover the errors of 
{ he multitude on this important point, and to warn others 
against those errors. 

Illus. 1. The same station or condition of life, which makes one 
man happy, makes another miserable, and to a third it is perfectly 
indifferent. We see some men miserable through life, from vain 
fears, and anxious desires, grounded solely upon wrong opinions.- 
We see others wear themselves out with toilsome days and sleep- 
less nights, in pursuit of some object which they never attain ; or 
which, when attained, gives little satisfaction, perhaps real disgust. 

2. The evils of life have very different effects upon different men ; 
what sinks one into despair and absolute misery, rouses the virtue 
and magnanimity of another, who bears it as the lot of humanity, 
and as the discipline of a wise and merciful Father in Heaven. He 
rises superior to adversity, and is made wiser and better by it, and 
consequently happier. 

Corol. It is, therefore, of the last importance, in the conduct of 
life, to have just notions with respect to good and evil ; and surely 
it is the province of reason to correct wrong opinions, and to lead 
us into those that are just and true. 

336. He who feels the bad effects of following his pas- 
sions and appetites, and imputes them to himself, would be 
stung with remorse for his folly, though he had no account 
to make to a superior Being. His reason convinces him 
that he has sinned against himself: in his self-condemna- 
tion, he feels that he has brought upon his own head the 
punishment which his folly deserved. 

Corol. From this we may see that this rational principle of a re- 
gard to our own good upon the whole, gives us the conception of 
a right and a wrong in human conduct, at least of a -wise and a/oo/- 
ish. It produces a kind of self-approbation, when the passions arid 






chap. xii. Of Moral Perception. 153 

appetites are kept in their due subjection to this rational principle 
of a regard to our own good upon the whole; and a kind of re- 
morse and compunction when it yields to them. 

Obs. In these respects this principle is so similar to the moral 
principle, or conscience, and so interwoven with it, that to make the 
distinction apparent, we shall make conscience the subject of the 
next section. 

III. Analysis of Conscience, or the Moral Principle. 
537. Conscience, or the faculty of distinguishing right 
conduct from wrong, like all our other faculties, comes to 
maturity by degrees ; or is tutored by the experience we 
have of our own conduct, and by the examples of good and 
ill, which are furnished us by others. 

Jllus. The seeds of moral discernment are, if I may use a figure, 
planted in our mind by him that made us. They grow up in their 
proper season ; they are at first tender and delicate, and easily 
warped ; hence their progress depends very much upon their be- 
ing- duly cultivated and properly exercised. All the arguments ap- 
plied to prove the cultivation of our other faculties, attention, ab- 
straction, memory, association, judgment, and reasoning, bear with 
united force in proof of the fact, that moral discernment, or con- 
science, is susceptible of a high degree of improvement. 

Corol. Since, then, the natural power of discerning between 
right and wrong, needs the aid of instruction, education, exercise, 
and habit, as well as our other natural powers ; and, by these 
means of improvement, may be informed of its duty, of the good 
its subject ought to pursue, and the evils that he ought to shun j — 
that man must indeed be a stranger to his own heart, and to the 
state of human nature, who does not see that he has need of all 
the aid which his situation affords him, in order to know how he 
ought to act in any given case in which accident or circumstances 
may place him. 

338. Conscience is peculiar to man ; and is one of those 
prerogatives by whicli he is raised above brute animals, in 
which not a vestige of Moral Perception can be traced. 

Corol. 1. Man alone of the animals that inhabit this earth is a 
moral agent. The dog that runs away with a piece of meat is not 
so ; therefore, this action is no crime in the dog, though, by an 
abuse of language, we say of that quadruped, that " He is a great 
thief." Brute animals are neither immoral nor virtuous, and when 
we say of a horse that " he is vicious," our meaning is, that he has 
such qualities, or has acquired, by ill treatment or otherwise, such 
habits as lead to such actions. 

2. These tilings, and others, which the ingenuity of the reader 
can easily supply, shew that there is just reason why we should 
consider the brute creation destitute of the noblest faculties with 
which God hath endowed man, and particularly of that faculty 
which makes us moral and accountable beingt. 

14* 



154 ji Grammar of Logic. book if, 

339. Conscience is evidently intended by nature to be 
the immediate guide and director of our conduct, after we 
arrive at the years of understanding. 

Hhis. 1. The bones, muscles, arteries, blood, and variously com- 
plicated parts of our frame, shew intuitively the end for which they 
were made, and put together with such exquisite skill and nicety 
of adaptation and action. 

2. That we may discern those qualities of bodies which may be 
useful or hurtful to us, we are endowed with five senses, the media 
of all sensation. That we may retain the knowledge which we have 
acquired, we have the faculty of memory given us. That we may 
distinguish what is true from what is false, we have the faculties of 
judgment and reasoning, as original powers of the mind. 

3. The appetites and pasaions of our nature all point out their 
end ; else what are the natural appetites of hunger and thirst, the 
natural affections of parents to their offspring, and of relations to 
each other, the natural docility and credulity of children, the affec- 
tions of pity and sympathy with the distressed, the attachment we 
feel to neighbours, to acquaintance, and the esteem and love we 
feel towards individuals ? — What are our obedience to the laws and 
the constitution of Britain ? What are these, I ask, but parts of our 
constitution, which plainly point out their end ? And he must be 
intellectually blind, or a wretched knave, who will not allow, who 
does not perceive, that the intention for which both the intellectual 
and the active powers were given him, is written in legible and 
in golden characters upon the face of each of* them. 

340. Nor is this the case with any of them more evident- 
ly than with Conscience, the intention of which is mani- 
festly implied in its office — to shew us what is good, what 
bad, and what indifferent, in human conduct. 

JIlus. 1. "He hath shewed thee, O man ! what is good," saith 
the Prophet Micah. Conscience judges of every action before it is 
done; for we can rarely act so precipitately, but we have the con- 
sciousness that what we are about to do is right, or wrong, or indif- 
ferent. Like the bodily eye, it naturally looks forward, though its 
attention may occasionally be turned back to the past. 

2. Conscience, if I may be so bold as to make the assertion,. 
plunges into the future, when it prescribes measures to every appe- 
tite, affection, and passion ; — and says of every other principle of 
action, " Hitherto thou shalt go, but no farther." Whoever yet 
transgressed its dictates with innocence, and even with impunity ? 
At any rate I am not that man ; and, with my peccability, I have 
no ambition to be stripped of this sacred monitor. It is an honest, 
an amiable counsel, whose opinions are without expense and with- 
out delay. 

3. Probably, some of our other principles of action have more 
strength ; but none of them can boast its authority. Set any other 
principle in opposition to it we please, its sentence makes us guilty 
fo ourselves, and guilty in the eyes of our Maker. 

Corol. 1. It is evident, therefore, that this principle has, from its 



ghap. xii. Of Moral Perception. 155 

nature, an authority to direct and determine, with regard to our 
conduct — to judge, to acquit, or to condemn, and even to punish— an 
authority that belongs to no other principle of the human mind. 
Other principles may urge, this only authorizes. Other principles 
ought to be controlled by this ; this may be, but never ought to 
be, controlled by any other, and never can be with innocence to 
our bosoms. 

2. The authority of conscience over the other principles of the 
mind is self-evident ; for it implies no more than this — That in all 
cases a man ought to do his duty. He only, who does in all cases 
what he ought to do, is the perfect man. 

Obs. To this all-powerful principle, then, father than to any 
other, did Nelson appeal at the battle of Trafalgar, when that 
noble sentiment ran through his fleet — 

" ENGLAND EXPECTS THAT EVEHT MAN THIS HAY WILL DO HIS DUTY." 

341. The Moral Faculty, or Conscience, is both an ac- 
tive and an intellectual power of the mind. It is an active 
poiver, as every truly virtuous action must be more or less 
influenced by it ; and it is an intellectual power , because 
by it solely we have the original conceptions, or ideas of 
tight and wrong in human conduct. 

Illus. 1. Of its being an active power. Other principles may con- 
cur with it, and lead the same way ; but no action can be called mo- 
rally good, in which regard to what is right has not some influence. 

Example 1. There is no virtue, but there is justice in paying just 
debts. When the moral principle wages war and overcomes the 
animal principles, there is certainly some activity shewn. In some 
cases, a regard to what is right may be the sole motive, without 
the concurrence or opposition of any other principle of action : as 
when a judge, or an arbiter, determines a plea between two indif- 
ferent persons, solely from a regard to justice. 

Carol. 1. Thus we see, that conscience, as an active principle, 
somtimes concurs with other principles, sometimes opposes them, 
and is sometimes the sole principle of action. 

Illus. 2. Of its being an intellectual poiver. By conscience, solely 
as an intellectual power, we have the original conceptions, or ideas, 
of right and wrong in human conduct ; and of right and wrong 
there are not only many different degrees, but many different spe- 
cies. Justice and injustice, benevolence and malice, prudence and 
folly, magnanimity and meanness, decency and indecency, are vari- 
ous moral forms, all comprehended under the general notion of 
right and wrong in conduct, — all of them objects of moral appro- 
bation, or disapprobation, in a greater or less degree. 

Again, the conception of these, as moral qualities, we have by 
our moral faculty ,■ and by the same faculty, when we compare them 
together, we perceive various relations among them. 

Example 2. Thus we perceive, that justice is entitled to a small 
degree of praise, but injustice to a high degree of blame; and the 
same may be said of gratitude and its contrary. When justice and 
gratitude interfere, gratitude must give place to justice, and un- 
merited beneficence to both. 



156 A Grammar of Logic* book xx, 

Corol. 2. As this faculty* therefore, furnishes the human mind 
with many of its original conceptions, or ideas, as well as with the 
'first principles of many important branches of human knowledge, it 
may justly be accounted an intellectual as well as an active power of 
the mind. 

IV. Analysis of Duty, Rectitude, and Moral Obligation, 

342. The subject of law must have the conception of a 
general rule of conduct, and a sufficient inducement to 
obey the law, even when his strongest animal desires draw 
him the contrary way. 

Illus. Without some degree of reason he cannot have this con- 
ception. Man is endowed with some degree, of reason. We shall 
thence pronounce him the subject of law, having the conception of 
a general rule of conduct. The subject of law must likewise have 
a sufficient inducement to obey the law, even when his strongest 
animal desires draw him the contrary way. The possession of good 
is a sufficient inducement to obey the law. Man, of all the animals 
ef creation, desires the possession of good. We shall therefore 
consider man as having a sufficient inducement to obey the law, 
even when his strongest animal desires draw him the contrary way. 

343. This inducement may be a sense of interest, or a 
sense of duty, or both concurring. 

Obs. These are the only two principles, which, in Dr. Tteid's o- 
pinion, can reasonably induce a man to regulate all his actions ac- 
cording to a general rule or law. 

Corol. They may, therefore, be justly called the rati ofial princi- 
ples of action, since they can have no place but in a being endow- 
ed with reason, and since it is by them only that man is capable ei- 
ther of political or of moral g-overnment. 

344. Our notion, or conception of duty, is too simple to 
admit a logical definition ; and when we say, that, it is 
what we ought to do- — what is fair and honest — what is 
approvable — what every man prof esses to be the rule of his 
conduct — what all men praise — and what is in itself lauda- 
ble, though no man should praise it, — we define it only by 
synonymous words, or phrases, or by its properties and ne- 
cessary concomitants. 

345. The notion of duty cannot be resolved into that of 
interest, or what is most for our happiness. 

Illus. 1. Every man may be satisfied of this, who attends to his 
own conceptions, and the language of mankind shows it ; — for, 
when I say, " this is my interest," I mean one thinj,-; and when I 
say, " this is ray duty," I mean another thing. And though the 
same course of action, when rightly understood, maybe both my 
duty and my interest, the conceptions I havt of each are very dif- 
ferent. Both are reasonable motives to action, but quite distinct 
in their nature. 



•. xji. Of Moral Perception. 15/ 

2. In every man of real worth there is a principle of honour, a 
regard to what is honourable, or dishonourable, very distinct from 
a regard to his interest. It is folly in any man to disregard his in- 
terest, but to do what is dishonourable is baseness. The first may 
move our pity, or, in some cases, our contempt ; but the last pro- 
vokes our indignation. 

Corol. 1. As these two principles are different in their nature., 
and not resolvable into one, so the principle of honour is evidently 
superior in dignity to that of interest. 

2. No man would allow him to be a man of honour, who should 
plead his interest to justify what he acknowledged to be dishon- 
ourable ; but to sacrifice interest to honour never costs a blush. 

346. This principle is not to be resolved into a regard to 
our reputation among men, else the man of honour would 
not deserve to be trusted in the dark. He would have no 
aversion to lie, to cheat, to play the coward, when he had 
no dread of being discovered. 

Corol. Every man of honour, therefore, feels an abhorrence of 
certain actions, because they are in themselves base, and feels an 
obligation to certain other actions, because they are in themselves 
what honour requires, and this, independently of any consideration 
of interest or reputation. 

347. This is an immediate moral obligation ; and this 
principle of honour, which is acknowledged by all men who 
pretend to character, is only another name for what we call 
a regard to duty, to rectitude, to propriety of conduct. It 
is a moral obligation, which obliges a man to do certain 
things because they are right, anil not to do other things 
because they are wrong. 

Corol. There is, therefore, a principle in man, call it by what 
name you please, which, when he acts according to it, gives him a 
consciousness of worth, and when he acts contrary to it, a sense of 
demerit. Men of rank call it honour ,■ the vulgar hind calls it hon- 
esty, probity, virtue, conscience ; — philosophers have given it the 
name of the moral sense, the moral faculty, rectitude. 

348. The universality of this principle — the words that 
express it — the names of the virtues which it commands, 
and of the vices which it forbids — the ought and ought not, 
which express its dictates — make it evidently an essential 
part of language. 

Illus. 1. The natural affections — of respect to worthy people — of 
resentment of injuries — of gratitude for favours — of indignation 
against the worthless — are parts of the human constitution wliicb. 
suppose a right and a wrong in conduct. 

2. Many transactions that are found in the rudest societies go 
upon the same supposition. In all testimony — in all promises — in 
all contracts — there is necessarily implied a moral obligation on one 
party, and a trust in the other, grounded iipoyi this obligatior. 



158 A Grammar of Logic. book jti, 

349. The leading principle of all our active powers is 
Reason, and it comprehends both a regard to what is right 
and honourable, and a regard to our happiness upon the 
whole. A.11 the principles of action — whether they be 
notions of duty, rectitude, or moral obligation — when right- 
ly understood, lead to the same course of life; they are 
fountains whose streams unite and run in the same channel. 

Obs-. When we say a man ought to do such a thing, the ought, 
which expresses the moral obligation, has a respect, on the one 
hand, to the person who ought, and, on the other, to the action 
which he ought to do. Those two correlates are essential to every 
moral obligation ; take away either, and the obligation ceases to 
exist. 

350. The circumstances, both in the action and in the 
agent, necessary to constitute a moral obligation, are these : — >•• 

I. With regard to the action, it must be a voluntary 
action, or prestation of the person obliged, and not of 
another. 

II. The opinion of the agent in doing the action gives it 
its moral obligation. 

Obs. With respect to the person obliged ; to things only which 
come within the sphere of his natural power can he be under a 
moral obligation. As respects the agent, if he does a materially 
good action, without any belief of its being good, but from some 
other principle, it is no good action in him. And if he does it with 
the belief of its being ill, it is ill in him, 

Corol. These qualifications of the action, and of the agent, in 
moral obligation, are super-evident ; and the agreement of all men 
in them, shews that all men have the same notion, and a distinct 
aotion, of moral obligation. 

V. Analysis of the Sense of Duty. 

351. We are next to consider, how we learn to judge 
and determine that this is right, and that is wrong;. 

Obs. The abstract notion of moral good and ill would be of no 
use to direct our life, if we had not the power of applying it to par- 
ticular actions, and determining what is morally good, and what is 
morally ill. 

352. By the external senses we have not only the origin- 
al conceptions of the various qualities of bodies, but the ori- 
ginal judgments that this body has such a quality, that such 
another ; so by our moral faculty, we have both the original 
conceptions of right and wrong, of merit and demerit, in 
ourselves and others; and also the original judgments that 
this conduct is right, that is wrong ; that this character has 
worth, that dement. 



chap. xii. Of Moral Perception. 159 

Illu.i. 1. 'The testimony of our moral faculty, like that of the ex- 
ternal senses, ' the test inony of nature, and we have the same rea- 
son to rely upon it. 

2. The truths immediately testified by the external senses, are 
the first principles from which we reason, with regard to the mate- 
rial world, and from which all our knowledge of it is deduced. 

3. The truths immediately testified by our moral faculty, are the 
first principles of all moral reasoning, from which all our knowledge 
of our duty must be deduced. 

353. Moral reasoning is all reasoning that is brought to 
prove that such conduct is right and deserving of moral ap- 
probation, or that it is wrong, or that it is indifferent, and, 
in itself, neither morally good nor ill. 

Corol. 1. All that we can properly call moral judgments, are redu- 
cible to one or other of these, because all human actions, consider- 
ed in a moral point of view, are either good, or bad, or indifferent, 

2. Let it be understood, therefore, that in the reasoning which 
we call moral, the conclusion always is — That something in the con- 
duct of moral agents is good or bad, in a greater or a less degree, 
or indifferent. 

354. All moral reasonings rest upon one or more first 
principles of morals, whose truth is immediately perceived, 
without reasoning, by all men come to years of understand- 
ing. 

Illus. This is common to every branch of human knowledge that 
deserves the name of science ; and these first principles are the 
dictates of our natural faculties. 

Example 1. In astronomy and in optics, the first principles are 
phenomena attested by the human eye ; and with him who disbe- 
lieves the testimony of that little organ, the whole of those two no- 
ale fabricks of science falls to pieces like the visions of the night. 

2. The principles of music all depend upon the testimony of the 
ear. Those of natural plulosophy, upon the facts attested by the 
ienses. Those of mathematics, upon the necessary relations of 
quantities considered abstractedly. {Art. 44. Illus.) The science 
of polities borrows its principles from what we know by experience 
of the character and conduct of man. The first principles of mo- 
als, are the immediate dictates of the moral faculty. 

3. He that will judge of the colour of an object, must consult his 
:yes in a good light, when there is no medium, or contiguous ob- 
ject, that may give it a false tinge. In like manner, he that will 
judge of the first principles of morals, m'ist consult his conscience, 
»r moral faculty. When he is calm and dispassionate, unbiassed by 
nterest, affection, or fashion. 

Corol. The sum of the reasonings that we have made, or that we 
might make, on this analysis of the sense of duty, is — that, by an ori- 
ginal power of the mind, which we call conscience, or the moral 
faculty, we have the conception of right and wrong in human con- 
luct, of merit and demerit, of duty and moral obligation, and our 
3ther moral conceptions , and that, by the same faculty, we per- 




£60 A Grammar of Logic. book ii. 

ceive some things in human conduct to be right, and others to be 
wrong ; that the first principles of morals are the dictates of this 
Biculty ; and that we have the same reason to rely upon those dic- 
tates, as upon the determinations of our senses, or of our other 
natural faculties. 

VI. Of Moral Approbation and Disanprobation. 

355. The judgments we form in speculative matters are 
dry and unaffecting; — our moral judgments, from their 
nature, are necessarily accompanied with affections and 
feelings, which we are now to consider. 

Bins. We approve of good actions and disapprove of bad ones ; 
and this approbation and disapprobation, when we analyse it, ap- 
pears to include not only a moral judgment of the action, but some 
affection, favourable or unfavourable, towards the agent, and some 
feeling in ourselves. 

556. Moral worth, even in a stranger, with whom we 
have not the least connexion, never fails to produce some 
degree of esteem mixed with good -will. The esteem which 
we have for a man on account of his moral worth, is differ- 
ent from that which is grounded upon his intellectual ac- 
complishments, his birth, fortune, and connexion with us. 

Illus. Moral worth, when it is set off by eminent abilities, and 
external advantages, is like a diamond in the mine, which is rough 
and unpolished, and perhaps crusted over with some other baser mate- 
rial that takes away its lustre. But, when it is attended with these 
advantages, it is like a diamond cut and polished, and set round 
with pearls in a massy crown. Its lustre then attracts every eye ; 
and yet these things, which add so much to its appearance, add 
but little to its real valae. 

Corol. There is no judgment of the heart more clear, or more ir- 
resistible than this — That esteem and regard are really due to good 
conduct, and the contrary to base and unworthy conduct. Nor can 
we conceive a greater depravity in the heart of man, than it would 
be to see and acknowledge worth without feeling any respect to 
it ; or to see and acknowledge the highest worthlessness without 
any degree of dislike and indignation. 

557. The object of moral approbation is, then, either some 
disposition of the mind, or some external action. 

Illus. Probity is the most approved disposition ; and the external 
expressions of probity the most approved actions. These consti- 
tute the whole, or the most essential part of virtue. Other sub- 
jects may be admired or contemned, but these alone are the sub- 
jects of moral approbation, of esteem and love. 

358. Partiality, which makes us blind to the faults of 
eur friends, and the merits of those to whom, from prejudice 
Or passion, we are ill affected, is the foundation of our wrong 



chap. xn. Of Moral Perception. 161 

judgment with regard to the character of others, and of self- 
deceit with regard to our own. 

359. Moral approbation or disapprobation, is accompa- 
nied with agreeable or uneasy feelings in the breast of the 
spectator or judge. 

Ilhis. The benevolent affections give pleasure, the malevolent 
desires give pain, in one degree or another. And when we con- 
template a noble character, though but in ancient story, or even in 
a novel, a comedy, or a tragedy ; like a beautiful object, it gives a 
lively and pleasant emotion to the spirits — it warms the heart, and 
invigorates the frame — like the beams of a meridian sun, it enlivens 
the face of nature, and diffuses heat, light, and joy, all around. 

Example. We feel a sympathy with the noble Caractacus, and 
are afflicted in his distress ; and Alfred the Great compels us to re- 
joice in his prosperity ; we even catch some sparks of that celes- 
tial fire that animated the conduct of the latter : and it is impossi- 
ble to accompany the former to Rome, without feeling the glow of 
his virtue and magnanimity. 

Corol. This sympathy is the necessary effect of our judgment of 
the conduct of those men, and of our approbation and esteem due 
to that conduct; for real sympathy is always the effect of some be- 
nevolent affection, such as esteem, love, pity, or humanity. 

360. Sympathy gathers strengtli from the social tie, and 
bids us claim some property in the worth of a father, or a 
mother, a brother, or a sister, a relation, or an acquaintance, 
and chiefly so in that friend whom we value above all her 
sex. But the highest pleasure of our soul is, when we are 
conscious of good conduct in ourselves. 

Obs. On the other hand, the view of a vicious character, espe- 
cially if that character be connected with us, like that of an ugly and 
deformed object, is disagreeable, and our sympathy is very painful 
indeed ; for we blush for those faults, by which we feel ourselves 
dishonoured. 

Corol. If bad conduct in those in whom we are interested, be 
uneasy and painful, it is much more so when we are conscious of it 
in ourselves. This uneasy feeling has a name in all languages; we 
call it remorse. In repentance, contrition, and remorse, self-reproach, 
and even indignation, are largely intermixed with the affection of 
sorrow. 

Note. We shall here close our division of " The Intellectual Pow- 
ers," recommending to the more advanced reader, the study of 
Reid and Stewart's writings on the same subject: what we have 
said is sufficient in an elementary treatise. 



15 



SUBJECTS OF COLLATERAL INQUIRY, WITH 
x THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. 



CHAPTER I. 

OF THE PRIMARY AND SECONDARY QUALITIES OF 
BODIES. 

361. We have observed in Chapter II. of Book II. thai 
sensation is generally conjoined with perception: but these 
terms denote two separate and distinct acts of the mind ; 
and we have no appropriate name to designate the conjunc- 
tion of sensation with perception. Both are generally con- 
founded together under one term, which comes to be more 
strictly appropriated either to the sensation or the percep- 
tion, according as the one or the other more strongly occu- 
pies the attention of the mind. 

Illus. 1. If it be asked, What I mean by. the smell of arose ? it is . 
evident that, in the general acceptation of the phrase, this denotes 
a sensation of the mind; as appears from the epithets fragrant, 
agreeable, &c. which are applicable to it, and which have meaning 
when referred to a sentient being-. (Art. 105. Illus. 1, 2, and 3.) 
Along 1 , however, with this sensation of an agreeable odour, there is 
conjoined a perception, by which we form a certain notion of that 
quality in the rose, which is the cause of its odour; but this per- 
ception is totally distinct from the sensation, (Art. 42. and 108.) ; 
for the perception cannot be said to be agreeable or otherwise, and 
it has an external object, the existence of which depends not upon 
the act of the mind, as doth the sensation, (See Art. 106. and 
Ilhis. Art. 110.) Yet we have no name by which to distinguish the 
object of this perception, unless it be that which more properly 
belongs to the accompanying sensation, to wit, the s?nellof the rose ; 
a defect of language, which is no doubt the source of much ambi- 
guity. 

2. Again, if it be asked, What is the effect produced by applying 
the hand upon any solid and compact substance ? it will be answer- 



CHAP. 1. Of the Secondary Qualities of Bodies, 163 

ed, that, We feel the body to be hard. And, in like manner, when 
the parts of a body are easily displaced, or its figure changed by 
applying the hand to it, we call it soft : we feel it soft. These arc 
the notions which all mankind have of hardness and softness. The}' 
are neither sensations, nor like any sensation ; they were real 
qualities before they were perceived by touch, and continue to be 
so when they are not perceived ; for if any man will affirm, that 
diamonds were not hard till the}' were handled, who would reason 
with him ? 

3. The sensation of hardness may be easily had, by pressing 
one's hand against the.table, and attending to the feeling that en- 
sues, setting aside, as much as possible, all thought of the table and 
its qualities, or of any external thing. But it is one thing to have 
the sensation, and another to attend to it, and make it a distinct 
object of reflection. The first is easy ; the last, in most cases, ex- 
tremely difficult. 

4. The sensation of touch, and the hardness of bodies, have not 
the least similitude ; yet the hardness of bodies is a thing that wc 
conceive as distinctly, and believe as firmly, as any thing in nature j 
and no rules of reasoning are required to convince me of the 
consciousness I have of this sensation when I press my hand against 
the table. I see nothing left, but to conclude, that, by an original 
principle in my constitution, a certain sensation of touch both sug- 
gests to the mind the conception of hardness, and creates the belief 
of it: or, in other words, that this sensation is the natural sign oi 
hardness. 

362. This sensation may be increased in strength at 
pleasure, merely by increasing the pressure of the hand ; 
and it may be increased to such a degree, as to be very dis- 
agreeable. It then arrests the attention forcibly enough, 
and we give it the name of Pain, which is, however, no ap- 
propriate term, but the common appellation of all sensations 
that are disagreeable. If I hit my toe against a stone with 
violence, the sensation I experience is the same in kind, but 
different in degree, with what I feel when I gently press 
Hie table with my hand. 

363. We have now shewn, that language affords, in ge- 
neral, but a single term whereby to distinguish both the 
sensation and its accompanying perception ; and that this 
term is chiefly appropriated either to the sensation or the 
perception, according as the attention is most engrossed by 
the one or the other. Upon this circumstance, appears to 
be founded a distinction of the qualities of body into two 
kinds, called primary and secondary. 

Illus. The reality of the distinction appears to be placed in this, 
that the primary qualities are those of which we have a distinct per- 
ception, and but a slight sensation : while, of the secondary, our 
perception ' s but obscure, and we have a strong sensation, which 



164 Ji Grammar of Logic. book in, 

chiefly arrests our attention. Hence, the names of the primary 
qualities of body, more usually refer to the perception by which 
they are made known to us; while those of the secondary qualities 
have more properly a reference to the accompanying sensation. 

364. The three senses of taste, smell, and hearing, appear 
to give us information of the secondary qualities of body 

, alone ; the other two senses of sight and touch, inform us 
both of primary and secondary qualities. Heat and cold 
are secondary qualities, discernible by touch ; and colour is 
a secondary quality, discernible by sight. 

Ulna. The disposition of bodies to reflect a particular kind of 
light, or the fitness of certain particles of external bodies to reflect 
some only of the rays of light, occasions the sensation uf colour; 
and, in this acceptation, it really exists in the sentient being, 
although early prejudice induces us to refer it to the ex ernal body 
alone ; and the term is usually applied only to the exte ■ nal cause of 
the sensation, and not to the sensation itself, which is not the case 
with the other secondary qualities. All the primary qualities of 
body may be discovered by the sense of touch alone ; and it is this 
sense, as diffused over our whole corporeal frame, which imparts 
the most accurate notions concerning those qualities. For the 
notions of extentien and. figure, as conveyed by the eye, require 
the correction of the touch ; and even motion, which might be 
.supposed to be the peculiar province of sight, can only certainly 
be ascertained by the touch, because the eye often judges motion 
to be real, when it is but apparent ; as when, sailing along the 
■shore in a vessel, we fancy the land moves. 

365. There appears, upon the whole, to be a real distinc- 
tion between the primary and secondary qualities of body ; 
our senses give us a direct and distinct notion of extension, 
divisibility, figure, motion, solidity, hardness, softness, and 
fluidity, which are all primary qualities ; but of the second- 
ary qualities, sound, colour, taste, smell, and heat or cold, 
our senses give us only a relative and obscure notion. 

Obs. A relative notion of a thing, is, strictly speaking, no notion 
of the thing at all, but only of some relation which it bears to some- 
thing else. Thus, of the word gravity, I can have a distinct and 
accurate notion, when it signifies the tendency of bodies towards 
the earth ; but when it signifies the cause of that tendency, I have 
no conception of what the thing is, though I may think of it as an 
unknown cause of a known effect. This is a relative notion ; and 
there are many objects of thought and discourse, of which qvx 
faculties can give no better than a relative notion. 



./MA'.'. 11. Of Natural Language and Signs. 165 

CHAPTER II. 

OF NATURAL LANGUAGE AND SIGNS. 

366. In- lllus. 4. Art. 361. sensations were called na- 
tural signs. Mankind reciprocally communicate their 
thoughts and intentions, their purposes and desires, by lan- 
guage or signs. 

lllus. These signs are of two kinds : first, such as have no mea- 
ning, but what is affixed to them by compact or agreement among 
those who use them ; these are artificial signs. 2dly. Such as, pre- 
vious to all compact and agreement, have a meaning which every 
man understands by the principles of his nature. 

Corol. Language, therefore, so far as it consists of artificial signs, 
may be called artificial; so far as it consists of natural signs, we 
call it natural. 

367. If mankind had not had a natural language, they 
could never have invented an artificial one by their reason 
and ingenuity. For all artificial language supposes some 
compacts or agreements before the use of artificial signs ; 
but there can be no compact or agreement without signs, 
nor without language ; and, therefore, there must be a na- 
tural language, before an artificial language can be invented. 

368. The elements of the natural language of mankind, 
or the signs that are naturally expressive of our thoughts, 
consist in modulations of the voice, gestures, and features. 

lllus. By means of these, two savages, who have no common arti- 
ficial language, can converse together; can communicate their 
thoughts in some tolerable manner ; can ask and refuse, affirm and 
deny, threaten and supplicate ; can traffic, enter into covenants, 
and plight their faith ! Historical facts of undoubted credit are the 
bases of this illustration. 

369. Mankind having thus, by nature, a common lan- 
guage, though a scanty one, adapted only to the necessities 
of nature, their ingenuity improved it by the addition of ar- 
tificial signs, to supply the deficiency of the natural. 

lllus. These artificial signs multiply with the arts of life, and the 
Improvements of knowledge. The articulations of the voice, seem 
to be, of all signs, the most -proper for artificial language ; and as 
mankind have universally used them for that purpose, we may rea- 
sonably judge that nature intended them for it. But nature does 
not intend that we should lay aside the use of the natural signs : it 
is enough that we supply their defects by artificial ones. Dumb 
people retain much more of the natural language than others, be- 

15* 



166 A Grammar of Logic. book nf- 

cauSe necessity obliges them to vise it. And, for the same reason^ 
savages have much more of it than civilized nations. 

370. It is by natural signs chiefly, that we give force and 
energy to language ; and the less language has of them, it is 
the less expressive and persuasive. 

Illus. Thus, writing is less expressive than reading, and reading 
less expressive than speaking without book. Speaking without 
the proper and natural modulations, force, and variations of the 
voice, is a frigid and dead language, compared with that which i» 
attended with them : it is still more expressive, when we add the 
language of the eyes and features ; and is then only in its perfect 
and natural state, and attended with its proper energy, when to all 
these we superadd the force of action. 

371. Where speech is natural, it will be an exercise, not 
of the voice and lungs only, but of all the muscles of the bo- 
dy; like that of dumb people and savages, whose language, 
as it has more of nature, is more expressive, and is more 
easily learned. 

S72. Artificial signs signify, they do not express; they 
speak to the understanding, as algebraical characters may 
do, but the passions, the affections, and the will, hear them 
not; these continue dormant and inactive, till we speak to 
them in the language of nature, to which they are all atten- 
tion and obedience. 

Corol. As men, therefore, are led by nature and necessity to con- 
verse together, they will use every means in their power to make 
themselves understood ; and where they cannot do this by artifi- 
cial signs, they will do it, as far as possible, by natural ones ; and 
he that understands perfectly the use of natural signs, must be the 
best judge in all the expressive arts, such as music, painting - , acting,, 
and public speaking". 

373. As in artificial signs there is often neither simili- 
tude between the sign and thing signified, nor any connex- 
ion that arises necessarily from the nature of the things; so 
it is also in the natural signs. 

Illus. 1, The word g-old has no similitude to the substance signi- 
fied by it; nor is it in its own nature more fit to signify this, than. 
-zny other substance : yet, by habit and custom, it suggests this, 
and no other. 

2. In like manner, a sensation of touch suggests hardness, al- 
though it hath neither similitude to hardness, nor, as far as we 
can perceive, any necessary connexion with it. {Art. 361.) The 
difference between these two signs, lies only in this; that, in the 
first, the suggestion is the effect of habit and custom ; in the second, 
it is not the effect of habit, but of the original constitution of our 
minds. {Art. 365.) 

374. There are different orders of natural signs, and dif> 



ohap. u. Of Natural Language and Signs. 167 

ierent classes into which they may be distinguished, whence 
we may more distinctly conceive the relation between our 
sensations and the things they suggest, and what we mean 
by calling sensations signs of external things. (Jlrt. 366. 
Corol) 

J/litx. 1. The first class of natural signs comprehends those whose 
connexion with the thing- signified, is established by nature, but 
discovered only by experience. The use of genuine philosophy 
consists in discovering such connexions, and reducing them to ge- 
neral rules. What we commonly call natural causes, might, with 
more propriety, be called natural signs ,• and what we call effects, 
the things signified. According to this illustration, we should no 
longer use the popular definitions of causes^ which are of two kinds; 
1st. The efficient cause, which is the energy or power producing an 
effect. 2dly. The final cause, which is the end or purpose for 
which an effect is produced. 

2. A second class of natural signs, is that wherein the connexion 
between the sign and the thing signified, is not only established by 
nature, but discovered to us by a natural principle, without reason- 
ing or experience. Of this kind are the natural signs of human 
thoug'hts, purposes, and desires, which have been already mention- 
cd as the natural language of mankind. Thus, an infant may be 
put into a fright by an angry countenance, and soothed again by 
smiles and blandishments. And a child that has a good musical 
ear, may be put to sleep or to dance, and may be made merry or 
sorrowful by the modulation of musical sounds. The principles of 
all the fine arts, and of what we call a fine taste, may be resolved 
into connexions of this kind. 

3. A third class of natural 9igns, comprehends those which, 
though we never before had any notion or conception of the thing 
signified, do suggest it, or conjure it up, as it were, by a natural 
kind of magic, and at once give us a conception and create a belief 
of it. Thus, our sensations suggest to us a sentient being or mind 
to which the)' belong ; but the conception of mind is neither an idea 
of sensation nor of reflection ; for it is neither like any of our sen- 
sations, nor like any thing of which we are conscious. The first 
conception of it, as well as the belief of it, and the common relation 
which it bears to all that we are conscious of, or remember, is sug- 
gested to every thinking being, we do not know how. The notion 
of hardness in bodies, as well as the belief of it, are got in a similar 
manner; being, by an original principle of our nature, annexed to 
that sensation which we have when we feel a hard body. (Art. 373. 
Illus. 2.) 

Corol. 1. As the first class of natural signs is the foundation of 
true philosophy, and the second, the foundation of the fine .arts, or 
of taste ; so the last is the foundation of common sense. 

2. And by all rules of just reasoning, we must conclude, that 
since sensations are invariably connected with the conception and 
belief of external existences, this connexion is the effect of our 
constitution, and ought to be considered as an original principle of 
human nature, till we find some more general principle into which 
it mav be resolved, 



IG8 A Grammar of Logic. book nf. - 

CHAPTER III. 

OF MATTER AND SPACE. 

375. Of matter. "We give the names of matter, materi- 
al, substance, body, to the subject of sensible qualities or 
properties. 

Ulus. I perceive in a billiard ball, figure, colour, and motion ; but 
the ball is not figure, nor is it colour, nor motion, nor all these taken 
together ; it is something that has figure, and colour, and motion. 
{Illus. Art. 182.) This is a dictate of nature, and the belief of all 
mankind. The essence of body is unknown to us : but we have 
the information of nature for the existence of those properties in 
matter which our senses discover. 

376. The belief that figure, motion, and colour, are quali- 
ties, and require a subject, must either be a judgment of 
nature, or it must be discovered by reason, or it must be a 
prejudice that has no just foundation. 

Corol. 1. But extension must be in something extended, motion 
in something moved, colour in something coloured ; and in the 
structure of all languages, we find adjective nouns used to express 
sensible qualities ; but it is well known that every adjective in lan- 
guage must belong to some substantive expressed or understood ; 
that is, every quality must belong' to some subject : therefore, our 
opinion, or belief, that the things immediately perceived by our 
.senses, are qualities which must belong to a subject, is an imme- 
diate judgment of nature, not discoverable by reason, nor instilled 
as a prejudice that has no just foundation ; and all the information 
our senses give us about this subject, is, that it is that to which such 
qualities belong. 

2. From this it is evident, that our notion of body or matter, as 
distinguished from its qualities, is a relative notion. {Art. 365. Obs.) 

Obs. The relation which sensible qualities bear to their subject, 
that is, to body, may be distinguished from all other relations. Thus, 
you can distinguish it from the relation of an effect to its cause, 
{Art. 14.) ; of a means to its end, {Art. 337. Corol.) ; or of a sign to 
ihe thing signified, {Art. 374.) 

377. Some of the determinations, however, which we 
form concerning matter, cannot be deduced solely from the 
testimony of sense, but must be referred to some other source. 

Illus.' There seems to be nothing more evident, than that bodies 
must consist of parts, and that every part of a body is a body, and a 
distinct something which may exist without the other parts ; and yet 
I apprehend this conclusion is not declucible solely from the testi- 
mony of sense. For, besides that it is a necessary truth, and there- 
fore no object of sense, there is a limit beyond which we cannot 



ojiap. in. Of Matter and Space. 169 

perceive any division of a body. The parts become too small to be 
perceived by our senses ; but we cannot believe that it becomes 
then incapable of being further divided, or that such division would 
make it not to be a body. 

378. Wc carry on the division and subdivision in our 
thoughts, far beyond the reach of our senses, and we can 
find no limit to it ; nay, we plainly discern that there can 
be no limit beyond which the division cannot be carried. 

Illus. For, if there be any limit to this division, one of two things 
must necessarily happen ; either we shall come by division to a body 
which is extended, but has no parts, and is absolutely indivisible ; or 
this body is divisible, but as soon as it is divided, it becomes no body. 

Both of these positions seem to me absurd, and one or the other 
is the necessary consequence of supposing a limit to the divisibility 
of matter. 

379. On the other hand, if it is admitted, that the divisi- 
bility of matter has no limit, it will follow, that no body can 
be called an individual substance ; you may as well call it 
two, or twenty, or two hundred. 

Carol. For where it is divided into parts, every part is a body or 
substance, distinct from all the other pails, and was so even before 
the division. Any one part, therefore, may continue to exist, though 
all the other parts were annihilated. 

380. There are other determinations concerning matter, 
which, we apprehend- are not solely founded upon the tes- 
timony of sense. 

Illus. These determinations are, that it is impossible that two 
bodies should occupy the same place at the same time ; that the 
same body should be in different places at the same time ; that a 
body can be moved from one place to another, without passing 
though the intermediate places either in a straight course, or by 
some circuit. 

Covol. These appear to be necessary truths, and therefore can- 
not be conclusions of our senses ; for our senses testify only what 
is, not what must necessarily be. 

381. Of space. Though space be not perceived by any 
of our senses, when all matter is removed; yet, when we 
perceive any of the primary qualities, space presents itself 
as a necessary concomitant ; for there can neither be exten- 
sion, nor motion, nor figure, nor divisibility, nor cohesion 
of parts, without space. 

382. There are only two of our senses, touch and sight, 
by which the notion of space enters into the mind. 

Illus. A man without either of these senses can have no concep- 
tion of space. And supposing him to have both, until he sees or 
feols other objects, he can have no notion of space ; for it has nei 



IfQ A Grammar of Logic. book hi. 

ther colour nor figure to make it an object of sight ; and it is no 
tangible quality, to make it an object of touch. But other objects 
of sight and touch carry the notion of space along with them, and 
not the notion only, but the belief of it ; for a body could not exist, 
if there was no space to contain it; nor could it move, if there was 
no space ; and its situation, its distance, and every relation which it 
has to other bodies, supposes space. 

383. But though the notion of space seems not to enter 
at first into the mind, until it is introduced by the proper 
objects of sense; yet being once introduced, it remains in 
our conception and belief, though the objects which introdu- 
ced it be removed. 

Illus. We see no absurdity in supposing a body to be annihilated, 
but the space that contained it remains ; and to suppose that annihi- 
lated, seems to be absurd. It is so much allied to nothing, or empti- 
ness, that it seems incapable of annihilation or of creation. 

384. Space not only retains a firm hold of our belief, even 
when we suppose all the objects that introduced it to be 
annihilated, but it swells to immensity. We can set no 
limits, either of extent or duration, to it6 profundity and 
immutability. 

Corol. Hence we call it immense, eternal, immoveable, and inde- 
structible. But it is only an immense, eternal, immoveable, and 
indestructible void or emptiness. 

Obs. The Student will here ubacrrc, that this ln.ngpuo.gj©, though 

popular, is sufficiently definite, as is also our reference to the aerU 
form elastic fluid, that fills all space. 

385. When we consider parts of space that have measure 
and figure, there is nothing we understand better, nothing 
about which we can reason so clearly and to so great an 
extent. 

Illus. Extension and figure are circumscribed parts of space, and 
are the objects of Geometry, a science in which human reason has 
the most ample field, and can go deeper, and with more certainty, 
than in any other. But when we attempt to comprehend the whole 
of space, and to trace it to its origin, we lose ourselves in the search. 

386. The philosophers tell us, that our sight, unaided by 
touch, gives a very partial notion of space, but yet a distinct 
one. This partial notion they call visible space. The 
sense of touch, say they too, gives a much more complete 
notion of space ; and when it is considered according to this 
notion, they call it tangible space. 

Obs. Visible figure, extension, and space, may be made the sub- 
jects of mathematical speculation, as well as the tangible. In the 
visible, we find tioo dimensions only; in the tangible, three,- in the 
sne, magnitude is measured by angles ; in the other, by line*' 



chap. iv. Of Duration, Extension, and Number. 171 

CoroL- Every part of visible space bears some proportion to the 
'-whole ; but tangible space being" immense, any part of it bears no 
proportion to the whole. C$ ee & r - Reid's Essays on the Powers of 
■'the Jlfind, Essay II. Chap. XIX. J 



CHAPTER IV. 

OF DURATION, EXTENSION, AND NUMBER. 

387. In the Illustration of Article 244, it was shewn that 
Memory implies a conception and belief of past Duration ; 
tor it is impossible that we should remember any thing dis- 
tinctly, without believing some interval of Duration, more 
or less, to have passed between the time that it happened, 
and the present moment ; and, if we had no Memory, we 
could acquire no notion of Duration. 

388. Duration, extension, and number, are the measures 
of all things subject to mensuration. When we apply them 
to finite things, which are measured by them, they seem of 
all things to be the most distinctly conceived, and most 
within the reach of the human understanding. 

Illus. 1. Extension having- three dimensions, has an endless varie^ 
ty of modifications, capable of being accurately defined; and their 
various relations furnish the human mind with its most ample field 
of demonstrative reasoning. 

2. Duration, having only one dimension, has fewer modifications; 
but these are clearly understood; and their relations admit of 
measure, proportion, and demonstrative reasoning. 

3. Number is called decrete quantity, because it is compounded of 
units, which are all equal and similar, and it can only be divided 
into units. 

4. Duration and extension are not decrete, but continued quantity. 
They consist of parts perfectly similar, but divisible without end. 
{See Art. 237. Illus. 1.) 

389. In order to assist our conception of the magnitude 
and proportions of the various-intervals of Duration, we find 
it necessary to give a name to some known portion of it, 
such as an hour, a day, a year. 

Hlus. These intervals we consider as units ; and, by the number 
of them continued in a larger interval, we form a distinct concep- 
tion of its magnitude. A similar expedient we find necessary, to 
give us a distinct conception of the magnitudes and proportions of 
things extended. Thus, number is found necessary as a common, 
measure, of extension and duration. 



172 A Grammar of Logic. book m> 

390. Some parts of Duration have, to other parts of it, the 
relations of prior and posterior; and to the present, they 
have the relations of past and future. 

Blus. 1. The notion of past is immediately suggested by Memory, 
as has been shewn above, (Art. 387.) ; and when we have appre- 
hended the notions of present and past, and of prior and posterior, 
we can, from these, frame a notion of the future ; for the future is 
that which is posterior to the present. Hence, we say of the past, 
former, that is, prior time ; and as we cannot give the name of poste- 
rior to the present, we must assign that term to the future. {See 
Art. 237. Illvs. 2. and Example 1.) 

2. Nearness and distance are relations equally applicable to time 
and place. But distance in time, and distance in place, are things 
so different in their nature, and so like in their relation, that it is 
difficult to determine, whether the name of distance is applied to 
both in the same sense, or in an analogical sense. (See Illus. 3. and 
Carol. Art. 237.) 

391. The Extension of bodies, which we perceive by our 
senses, leads us necessarily to the conception and belief of 
a space, which remains immoveable when the body is remov- 
ed. And the Duration of events which we remember, leads 
us necessarily to the conception and belief of a Duration, 
which would have gone on uniformly, though the event had 
never happened. (See Art. 243. Illus.) 

Obs. Thus, this present month of November (1818) would have 
passed away, though no remarkable event had happened in it ; but 
the death of the Queen will make it to be long remembered. 

392. Without space, there can be nothing that is extend- 
ed; and without time, there can be nothing that hath Dura- 
tion. This is undeniable ; and yet we find that Extension 
and Duration are not more clear and intelligible, than space 
and time are dark and difficult objects of contemplation. 

Corol. As there must be space wherever any thing extended does 
exist or can exist ; and time, when there is or can be any thing that 
has Duration ; we can set no bounds to either, even in our Imagina- 
tion. They bid stern defiance to all limitation. Pursue them in 
conception, you plunge with the one into immensity, and with the 
other, into eternity ! 

393. An eternity past, is an object which we cannot com- 
prehend ; but, a beginning of time, unless we take it in a 
figurative sense, is a contradiction. 

Llus. By a common figure of speech, we give the name of time 
to those motions and revolutions, by which we measure it ; such 
as, days and years, (Art. 389.) We can % conceive a beginning of 
these sensible measures of time, and say that there -was a time when 
they were not — a time undistinguished by any motion or change ; 
but to say that there was a time before all time, is a contradiction. 



CHAP. V 



Uf Identity. 



394. All limited Duration is comprehended in Time, and 
all limited Extension, in Space. These, in their capacious 
womb, contain all finite existences, but are contained by 
none. 

I/iwi. Created things have their particular places in space, and 
their particular places in time • but time is every where, and space 
at all times ,■ therefore you and I, and all of us, who, in the lan- 
guage of Trim, " are here to-day and gone to-morrow," have our 
particular places in space, and our particular places in time. Time 
and space embrace each the other, and have that mysterious un- 
ion which the schoolmen conceived between soul and body — the 
thoh of each is in every part of the other. 



CHAPTER V. 

OF IDENTITY. 

395. In treating of Memory, one of our positions runs 
thus : " The remembrance of a past event, is necessarily ac- 
companied with the conception of our own existence at 
the time the event happened." (Art. 24J.) 

Obs. The conviction which eacli of us has of his own Identity, as 
far back as his memory reaches, needs no aid of philosophy to give 
it strength ; nor can it be weakened by any philosophy, without 
first producing some degree of insanity. 

396. This conviction is indispensably necessary to all 
exercise of reason. The operations of reason, whether in 
action or in speculation, are made up of successive parts. 
The antecedent operations are the foundation of the conse- 
quent, (Art. 132. Illus. and Art. 133.,); and without the 
conviction that the antecedent have been seen or done by 
me, I could have no reason to proceed to the consequent, in 
nny speculation, or in any active project whatever. 

Obs. That we may form as distinct a notion as we are able of this 
phenomenon of the human mind, it is proper to consider, first, 
What is meant by Identity in general ; Secondly. What by our own 
personal Identity ; and how we are led to that invincible be- 
lief and conviction, which every man has of his own personal Iden- 
tity, to any period in which his memory is present. 

I. If'/' at is meant by Identity in general. 

397. Dr. R< id takes Identity in general, to be a relation 
between a thing which is ku<>-vn to exist at one time, and a 

16 



1*4 A Grammar of Logic. book hi. 

thing which is known to have existed at another. If you 
ask, " Whether they are one and the same, or two different 
things," every man of common sense understands perfectly 
the meaning of your question. 

Carol. Whence we may infer with certaint}*, that every man of 
common sense has a clear and distinct notion of Identity. (Sec 
.Irt. 5.) 

Obs. The term Identity, conveys a notion too simple for a logical 
definition. It conveys an idea of relation, which none confound 
with other relations. 

398. Identity supposes an uninterrupted continuance of 
existence. (See Art. 52. Illus. 1. and 2.) 

Illus. That which hath ceased to exist, cannot be the same with 
that which afterwards begins to exist ; for this would be to suppose 
a being to exist after it had ceased to exist, and to have had exis- 
tence before it was produced, which are manifest contradictions. 
Continued and uninterrupted existence is, therefore, necessarily 
implied in Identity. 

Corol. Hence we may infer, that Identity cannot, in its proper 
sense, be applied to our pains, our pleasures, our thoughts, or any 
operations of our minds. The hcad-ach I feel this day, is not the 
same individual head-ach which 1 felt yesterday ; though, as far 
as I can judge, they are similar in kind and intensity of pain, and 
probably have the same cause. The same may be said of every 
feeling, and of every operation of mind : they arc all successive in 
their nature, like time itself, no two moments of which can be the 
•■ame moment. It is otherwise with the parts of space ; they al- 
ways are, they always were, and they always will be the same. 

Note. Tbe ground does not appear any further clear, in fixing 
the notion of Identity in general. 

II. Of personal Identity. 

399. It is perhaps more difficult to fix with precision the 
meaning of personality ; but it is not necessary in the pres- 
ent subject. It is sufficient for our purpose to observe, that 
all mankind place their personality in something that can- 
not be divided, or that cannot consist of parts. A part of 
you or of me, is a manifest absurdity. 

Mfts. When a man loses his estate, his health, his strength, he is 
still the same person, and has lost nothing- of his personality. The 
Marquis of Anglesea lost a leg at the battle of Waterloo, but he is 
the same person he was before. A person is something indivisi- 
ble, and is what Lej bxitz calls a monad. 

400. Any personal identity, therefore* implies the contin- 
ued existence of that indivisible thing, which I call myself. 
(Art. 52.; 

Illus. Whatever this self may be,, it is something which thinks, 
and deliberates, and resolves, and acts, and suffers. I am not 



chap. v. t?/' Identity. 175 

thought, nor action, nor feeling' ; yet am I something that thinks, 
and acts, and suffers. My thoughts, and actions, and feelings, 
change every moment ; they have no continued, but a successive 
existence ; but that self, or I, to which they belong-, am perma- 
nent, and have the same relation to all the succeeding thoughts, 
actions, and feelings, which I call mine. 

401. Such are the notions that I have of my personal 
Identity. But perhaps it may be said, this is all fancy, 
without reality ; and the sceptic may demand, How do you 
know, what evidence have you, that there is sych a perma- 
nent self, which has a claim to all the thoughts, actions, and 
feelings, which you call yours ? 

IHus. To this I answer, that the proper evidence which I have 

of all this, is remembrance. (See Art. 246. and its illustrations.) I 
remember, that in the year 1814, I published "A Treatise on the 
Construction of Maps." I remember several things that happened 
while that work was printing ; and among these, that my friend, 
Peter Nicholson, very obligingly read over the proof sheets of that 
work for me. My memory testifies, not only that the book in ques- 
tion was printed, but that it was printed from a manuscript, which 
I, who now remember, wrote or compiled. Supposing that no 
copy of this work were now extant ; still, if it was done by me, 1 
must have existed at that time, and continued to exist, in one place 
or another, from that time to the present. If the identical person, 
whom I call myself, did not write that book, my memory is falla- 
cious ; it gives a distinct and positive testimony of what is not true. 
But every man in his senses believes what he distinctly remembers ; 
and every thing he remembers, convinces him, that he existed at 
'he time remembered. 

402. When we pass judgment on the Identity of other 
persons, besides ourselves, we proceed upon other grounds, 
and determine from a variety of circumstances, which some- 
times produce the firmest assurance, and sometimes leave 
room for doubt. 

Obs. The Identity of persons has often furnished matter of serious 
litigation, before tribunals of justice. 

IUus. The Identity of a person is a perfect identity ; wherever it 
is real, it admits of no degrees; and it is impossible that a person 
should be in part the same, and in part different ; because a person 
is a monad, and is not divisible into parts. The evidence of Identity 
in other persons besides ourselves, does indeed admit of all degrees, 
from what we account certainty, to the least degree of probability. 
But still it is true, that the same person is perfectly the same, and 
cannot be so in part, or in some degree only. The honest Hiber- 
nian who accosted a stranger in London, saying, " I thought it was 
you, but I see now it is your brother ;" though the author of a sad 
bull, affords a happy illustration of the judgment wc pass on other 
persons besides ourselves. 

103. Our judgments of the Identity of objects of sense*, 



176 Jl Grammar of Logic. book mi, 

seem to be formed, much upon the same grounds, as our 
judgments of the Identity of other persons besides the self- 
identity which we have of ourselves. 

Illus. 1. Wherever there is great similarity, we are apt to pre- 
sume Identity, if no reason appears to the contrary : when two 
objects, ever so like, are perceived at the same time, they cannot 
be the same. But if they are presented to our senses at different 
times, we are apt to think them the same, merely from their simi- 
larity. 

2. Whether this is a natural prejudice, or from what cause soever 
it proceeds, it certainly appears in children from infancy ; and when 
they grow up, it is confirmed, in most instances, by experience ; for, 
of the same species, men rarely find two individuals that are not dis- 
tinguishable by obvious differences. 

Example. A man challenges a thief whom he finds in possession 
of his horse or his watch, only on similarity. When the watch-maker 
swears, that he sold this watch to such a person, his testimony is 
grounded on similarity. The testimony of witnesses to the identity 
of a person, is commonly grounded on no better evidence. 

Corol. Thus it appears, that the evidence we have of our own 
Identity, as far back as we remember, is totally of a different kind 
from the evidence we have of the Identity of other persons, or of 
objects of sense. The first is grounded on memory, and gives un- 
doubted certainty : the last is grounded on similarity, and on other 
circumstances, which, in many cases, are not so decisive as to leave 
no room for doubt. 

404. The Identity of objects of sense is never perfect, be- 
cause, as they consist of parts, which, from a variety of 
causes, are subject to continual changes, the substances of 
which they are made up, are insensibly changing, increasing:, 
or diminishing. 

Illus. Thus we say of an old regiment, the 42d, for example, that 
it scaled the heights of Abraham at Quebec, though there now is not 
a man alive that belonged to it then. Also, a ship of war, which has 
successively changed her anchors, her tackle, her sails, her masts, 
her planks, and her timbers ; while she keeps the same name, is 
still the same. 

Corol. 1. The Identity, therefore, which we ascribe to bodies, 
whether natural or artificial, is not perfect Identity ; it is rather 
something, which, for the conveniency of speech, we call Identity. 
It admits of great change of the subject, providing the change be 
gradual, sometimes even of a total change ; as that of my country- 
man's pistol, which, with a new stock, a new lock, and a new barrel, 
was still his old pistol. 

2. And the changes, which, in common language, are made con- 
sistently with Identity, differ from those that are thought to destroy 
it, not in kind, but in number and degree. It has no fixed nature 
when applied to bodies; and questions about the Identity of a body 
are very often questions about words. But Identity, when applied 
to persons, has no ambiguity, and admits not of degrees, or of more 



chap. vr. Of the Train of Thought in the Mind. l?7 

or less. It is the foundation of all rights and obligations, and of ali 
accountableness ; and the notion of it is fixed and precise 



CHAPTER VI. 

OF THE TRAIN OF THOUGHT IN THE MIND. 

405. Every man is conscious of a Succession of Thoughts 
which pass in his mind while lie is awake, even when thej 
are not excited by external objects. 

Obs. The mind on this account has been compared to liquor iu 
the state of fermentation. When it is not in this state, being- once 
at rest, it remains at rest, until it is moved by some . external im- 
pulse or internal prompter. But, in the state of fermentation, it has 
some cause of motion in itself, which, even when there is no impulse 
from without, suffers it not to be at rest a moment, but produces a 
constant motion and ebullition, while it continues to ferment. 

406. There is surely no similitude between motion and 
Thought ; but there is an analogy, so obvious to all men, that 
the same words are often applied to both ; and many modi- 
fications of Thought have no name but such as is borrowed 
from the modifications of motion. (See Art. 223. and 238. 
lllus. 1. and 2.) 

Obs. 1. Many Thoughts are excited by the senses. The causes 
or occasions of these may be considered as external : but, when 
such external causes do not operate upon us, we continue to think 
from some internal cause. From the constitution of the mind itself 
there is a constant ebullition of Thought, a constant intestine mo- 
tion ; not only of Thoughts barely speculative, but of sentiments, 
passions and affections, which attend them. ( See Art. 224. Jllus.J 

2. This continued succession of Thought has, by some philoso- 
phers, been called the imagination. It was formerly called the 
fancy, or the phantasy. If the old name be laid aside, it were to be 
wished that a name were given to it, less ambiguous than that of 
Imagination, — a name which has two or three meanings besides. 
fArt. 259. Obs. 1. and 2. and Art. 141.) • 

3. It is often called the train of ideas. This may lead one to 
think, that it is a train of bare conceptions; but this would surely 
be a mistake. It is made up of many other operations of mind, as 
well as of conceptions, or ideas. CArt. 200.) 

Example. Memory, judgment, reasoning, passions, affections and 
purposes; in a word, every operation of the mind (excepting those 
of sense) is exerted occasionally in this Train of Thought, and has 
its share as an ingredient ■, so that we must take the word idea in a 

16* 



178 A Grammar of Logic. book fir-. 

very extensive sense, if we make the Train of our Thoughts to be 
only a Train of Ideas. fSee Art. 36. Illus. 1, 2, and 3.) 

407. To pass from the name, and consider the thing, we 
may observe, that the trains of thought in the mind are 
of two kinds : 

First, they are either such as flow spontaneously, like 
water from a fountain, without any exertion of a governing- 
principle to arrange them. (Art. 202.) 

Or, secondly, they are regulated and directed by an ac- 
tive effort of the mind, with some view and intention. (Art. 
203. and 224.) 

Obs. Before we consider these in their order, it is proper to pre- 
mise, that these two kinds, how distinct soever in their nature, are 
for the most part mixed, in persons awake and come to years of un- 
derstanding'. ( See Art. 199.) 

Illus. 1. On the one hand, we are rarely so vacant of all project 
and design, as to let our Thoughts take their own course, without 
the least check or direction : or if at any time we should be in this 
state, some object will present itself, which is too interesting not to 
engage the attention, and rouse the active or contemplative powers 
that were at rest. (Art. 201.) 

2. On the other hand, when a man is giving the most intense ap- 
plication to any speculation, or to aivy scheme of conduct, when he 
Avishes to exclude every Thought that is foreig-n to his present pur- 
pose ; such Thoughts will often impertinently intrude upon him, in 
spite of his endeavours to the contrary, and occupy, by a kind of 
violence, some pail of the time destined to another purpose. One 
man may have the command of his Thoughts more than another 
man, and the same man, more at one time than at another: but I 
apprehend, that in the best trained mind, the Thoughts will some- 
times be restive, sometimes capricious and self-willed, even when it 
is wished to have them most under command. 

408. We must ascribe to Him who made us, and not to 
die mind, the power of calling up any Thought at pleasure, 
because such a call or volition supposes that Thought to be 
already in the mind ; for otherwise, how should it be the 
object of volition ? As this must be granted on the one hand, 
so it is no less certain on the other, that a man has a consid- 
erable power in regulating and disposing his own Thoughts. 
Of this every man is conscious, and 1 can no more doubt of 
it, than I can doubt whether I think now, as I was obliged 
to think when I wrote the Illustration to Article 90. 

Illus. 1. We seem to treat the Thoughts that present themselves 
to the Fancy in crowds., as a great man treats the persons who at- 
tend his levee. They are all ambitious of his attention ; he g-oes round 
the circle, bestowing a bow upon one, a smile upon another; asks a 
short question of a third ; while a fourth is honoured with a partial: 



-u \\\ vi. Of the Train of Thought in the Mind. 170 

tar conference ; and the greater part have no particular mark of at- 
tention, but go as they came. It is true, he can give no mark of his 
attention to those who were not there, but he has a sufficient num- 
ber for making a choice and distinction. 

2. In like manner, a number of Thoughts present themselves to 
the Fancy spontaneously ; but if we pay no attention to thcrn, if we 
hold no conference with them, they pass with the crowd, and are 
immediately forgotten, as if they had never appeared. Kut those 
to which we think proper to pay attention, may be stopped, examin- 
ed, and arranged, for any particular purpose which we have in view. 
( See Chap. VI. Book I.J 

409. It may likewise be observed, that a Train of Thought, 
which was at first composed by "application and judgment, 
when it has been often repeated, and becomes familiar, will 
present itself spontaneously. Thus, when a man has com- 
posed an air in music, so as to please his own ear — after he 
has played, or sung it often — the notes will arrange them- 
selves in just order; and it requires no effort to regulate 
their succession. (Sec Art. 136. and Art. 128. Wits.) 

Illus. Thus we see, that the Fancy is made up of Trains of Think- 
ing; some of which are spontaneous, others studied and regulated; 
and the greater part are mixed of both kinds, and take their deno- 
mination from that which is most prevalent : and that a Train of 
Thought, which at first was studied and composed, may by habit 
present itself spontaneously. (See Art. 130.) 

I. Of spontaneous Trains of Thought. 

410. When the work of the day is over, and a man lies 
down to relax his body and mind, he cannot cease from 
Thinking, though he desire it. Something occurs to his 
Fancy; that is followed by another thing, and so his 
Thoughts are carried on from one object to another, until 
sleep cjoses the scene. 

Illus. In this operation of the mind, it is not one faculty only that 
is employed; there are many that join together in its production. 
Sometimes the transactions of the day are brought upon the stage, 
and acted over again, as it were, upon this theatre of the Imagina- 
tion. In this case, Memory surely acts the most considerable part; 
since the scenes exhibited are not fictions, but realities, which are 
remembered ; yet in this case the Memory does not act alone — 
other powers are employed, and attend upon their proper objects. 
The transactions remembered will be more or less interesting; and 
we cannot then review our own conduct, nor that of others, with- 
out passing some judgment upon it. This we approve, that we dis- 
approve, (Art. 355.) This elevates, that humbles and depresses 
us, (Art. 3 39.) Persons that are not absolutely indifferent to us, 
can hardly appear, even to the Imagination, without some friendly 
or unfriendly emotion, (Art. 360. ^ We judge and reason abou 1 



180 A Grammar of Logic. book hi. 

things, as well as persons in such reveries. We remember what a 
man said and did; from this we pass to his designs, and to his gene- 
ral character, and frame some hypothesis to make the whole con- 
sistent. Such Trains of Thought we may call Historical. fSee 
Example, Art. 359.) 

411. There are others which we may call romantic, in 
which the plot is formed by the creative power of Fancy., 
without any regard to what did or what will happen. In 
these also, the powers of judgment, taste, moral sentiment, 
as well as the passions and affections, come in and take a 
share in the execution. (See Jirt. 264. Illus. 1. and 2.) 

Jllus. 1. In these scenes, the man himself commonly acts a very 
distinguished part, and seldom does any thing that he does not ap- 
prove. Here the miser will be generous, the coward brave, and the 
knave honest. Mr. Addison, in the Spectator, calls this play of the 
Fancy, castle-building. 

2. A castle-builder, in his fictitious scenes, will figure, not accord- 
ing to his real character, but according to the highest opinion he 
has been able to form of himself, and perhaps far beyond that opin- 
ion. For in those imaginary conflicts the passions easily yield to 
reason, and a man exerts the noblest efforts of virtue and magna- 
nimity, with the same ease, as, in his dreams, he flies through the 
air, or plunges to the bottom of the ocean. 

412. The Romantic scenes of Fancy are most commonly 
the occupation of young minds, not yet so deeply engaged 
in life as to have their Thoughts taken up by its real cares 
and business. (See Art. 275. and 269.) 

Elvs. 1. Those active powers of the mind, which are most luxu- 
riant by constitution, or have been most cherished by education, im- 
patient to exert themselves, hurry the Thought into scenes that 
give them play; and the boy commences in Imagination, according 
to the bent of his mind, a general or a statesman, a poet or an orator. 
C See Art. 276.) 

2. When the Fair Ones become castle-builders, they use different 
materials ; and while the young soldier is carried into th% field of 
Mars, where he pierces the thickest squadrons of the enemy, de- 
spising death in all its forms ; the gay and lovely nymph, whose 
heart has never felt the tender passion, is transported into a bril- 
liant assembly, where she draws the attention of every eye, and 
makes an impression on the noblest heart. 

3. But no sooner has Cupid's arrow found its way into her heart, 
than the whole scenery of her Imagination is changed. Balls and 
assemblies have now no charms. Woods and groves, the flowery 
bank and the crystal fountain, are the scenes she frequents in Ima- 
gination. She becomes an Arcadian shepherdess, feeding her 
bleating flock beside that.of her Strephon, and wishes for nothing 
more to complete her present happiness. 

4. In a few years the love-sick maid is transformed into ihe soli- 
citous mother. Her smiling offspring play around her. She views 



chap. vi. Of the Train of Hiought in the Mind. 131 

them with a parent's eye. Her Imagination immediately raises 
them to manhood, and b ring's them forth upon the stage of life. 
One son makes a figure in the arm}, another shines at the bar ; her 
daughters are happily disposed of in marriage, and bring new alli- 
ances to the family. Her " children's children" rise up before her, 
and venerate her gray hairs. 

Corol. Thus, the spontaneous sallies of Fancy are as various as 
the cares and fears, the desires and hopes, of man. 

Mies. 5. Tin se fill up the scenes of Fancy, as well as the page of 
the satirist. Whatever possesses the heart, makes occasional excur- 
sions into the Imagination, and acts such scenes upon that theatre 
as are ageeeable to the prevailing passion. The man of traffic, who 
has committed a rich cargo to the inconstant ocean, follows it in his 
thought ; and, according as his hopes or his fears prevail, he is 
haunted with storms, and rocks, and shipwreck ; or he makes a 
happy and a lucrative voj age, and before his vessel has lost sight of 
land, he has disposed of the profit which she is to bring at her return. 

6. The poet is carried into the Ely si an fields, where he converses 
with the ghosts of Homer and Orpheus. The philosopher makes a 
tour through the planetary system, or goes down to the centre of 
the earth, and examines its various strata. In the devout man like- 
wise, the great objects that possess his heart often play in his Ima- 
gination ; sometimes he is transported to the regions of the blessed, 
from whence he looks down with pity upon the folly and the pa- 
geantry of human life ; or he prostrates himself, with devout venera- 
tion, before the throne of the Most High ; or he converses with 
celestial spirits about the natural and moral kingdom of God. which 
he now sees only by a faint light, but hopes hereafter to view with 
a steadier and a clearer eye. 

413. In persons arrived at maturity, there is even in these 
spontaneous sallies of Fancy, some arrangement of Thought ; 
and 1 conceive that it will be readily allowed, that in those 
who have the greatest stock of knowledge, and the best na- 
tural parts, even the spontaneous movements of Fancy will 
be the most regular and connected. They have an order, 
connexion, ami unity, by which they are no less distinguish- 
ed from the dreams of one asleep, or the ravings of one de- 
lirious on the one hand, than from the finished productions 
of art on the other. 

Corol. 1. It is, therefore, in itself highly probable, to say no more 
of the matter, that whatsoever is regular and rational in a Train of 
Thought, which, without any study, presents itself spontaneously to 
a man's Fancy, is a copy of what had been before composed by his 
own rational powers, or those of some other person, fllhcs. 2. 
Art. 264.) 

Example. We certainly judge so in similar cases. Thus, in a 
book! find a Train of Thinking, which has the marks of knowledge 
and judgment. I ask, how it was produced ? It is printed in a book 
This dors not satisfy me, because the book has neither knowledge 



182 A Grammar of Logic. book hi. 

nor reason. I am told that a printer printed it, and a compositor 
set the types. Neither does this satisfy me. These causes per- 
haps knew very little of the subject. There must be a prior cause 
of the composition. It was printed from a manuscript. True. 
But the manuscript is as ignorant as the printed book. The manu- 
script was written or dictated by a man of knowledge and judgment. 
Such a Train of Thinking- could not originally be produced by 
any cause that neither reasons nor thinks. 

Corol. 2. Whether such a Train of Thinking be printed in a book, 
or printed, so to speak, in his mind, and issue spontaneously from 
his Fancy, it must have been composed with judg'ment by himself, 
or by some other rational being. 

II. 'Of a regular Train of Thought. 

414. By a regular Train of Thought, we mean that which 
has a beginning, a middle, and an end, and an arrangement 
of its parts, according to some rule, or with some intention. 
Thus the conception of a design, and of the means of execu- 
ting it ; the conception of a whole, and the number and or- 
der of the parts — are instances of the most simple Trains of 
Thought that can be called regular. 

Illus. Man has undoubtedly a power (whether we call it taste or 
judgment, is not of any consequence in the present argument), 
whereby he distinguishes between a composition, and a heap of 
materials ; between a house, for instance, and a heap of stones ; be- 
tween a sentence, and a heap of words; between a. picture, and a 
heap of colours. Children have no regular Trains of Thought un- 
til judgment begins to operate. Those who are born such idiots as 
never to show any signs of judgment, shew as few signs of regular- 
ity of Thought. It seems, therefore, that judgment is connected 
with all regular Trains of Thought, and may be the cause of them. 

415. Such Trains of Thought discover themselves in chil- 
dren about two years of age. They can then give attention 
to the operations of older children in making their little hou- 
ses, and ships, and other such things, in imitation of the 
works of men. 

Illus. 1. They are then capable of understanding a little of lan- 
guage, which shews bo*h a regular Train of Thinking, and some 
degree of abstraction. I think we may perceive a distinction be- 
tween the faculties of children of two or three } r ears of age and 
those of the most sagacious brutes. They can then perceive de- 
sign and regularity in the works of others, especially of older child- 
ren ; their little minds are fired with the discovery ; they are eager 
to imitate it, and never at rest till they can exhibit something of 
the same kind. 

2. When a child first learns by imitation to do something that re- 
quires design, how does he exult ! Pythagoras was not more happy 
in the discovery of his famous theorem. He seems then first to re- 
flect upon himself, and to swell with self-esteem. His eyes sparkle. 



ohap. vr. Of the Traiii of Thought in the Mind. 18o 

lie is impatient to show his performance to all about him, and thinks 
himself entitled to their applause. He is applauded by all, and 
feels the same kind of emotion from this applause, as a Roman Con- 
sul did from a triumph. He has now a consciousness of some worth 
in himself. He assumes a superiority over those who are not so 
wise ; and pays respect to those who are wiser than himself. He 
attempts something' else, and is every day reaping" new laurels. 

4 10. As children grow up, they are delighted with tales, 
with childish games, with designs and stratagems: every 
ihingof this kind stores the Fancy with a new regular Train 
of Thought, which becomes familiar by repetition, so that 
one part draws the whole after it in the Imagination. [Art. 
422.) 

Otis. 1. The imagination of a child, like the hand of a painter, is 
long employed in copying- the works of others, before it attempts 
any invention of its own. 

2. The power of Invention is not yet brought forth, but it is 
coming forward, and, Tike the bud of a tree, is ready to burst its m- 
teg>umentSj when some accident aids its eruption. 

41T- There is no power of the understanding that gives 
so much pleasure to the owner as that of Invention ; whether 
it be employed in mechanics, in science, in the conduct of 
life, in poetry, in wit, or in the fine arts. 

I Hits. One who is conscious of it, acquires thereby a worth and 
importance in his own eye which he had not before. He looks up- 
on himself as one who formerly lived upon the bounty and gratuity 
of others, but who has now acquired some property of his own. 
fSep Jl'us. 6. and 7. Art 427. ) When tiiis power begins to be felt 
in the young- mind, it has the grace of novelty added to its other 
charms, and, like the youngest child of the family, is caressed be- 
yond all the rest. 

Coral. We may be sure, therefore, that as soon as children are 
conscious of this power, they will exercise it in such ways as are 
suited to their age, and to ihe objects about which they are em- 
ployed. This gives rise to innumerable new associations, and re- 
g-ular Trains of Thought, which make the deeper impression upon. 
the mind, as they are its exclusive property. 

418. Thus we conceive, that the minds of children, as 
goon as they have judgment to distinguish what is regular, 
orderly, and connected, from a mere medley of Thought, are. 
by these means, furnished with regular Trains of Thinking. 

Jllus. 1. First and chiefly, by copying- what they see in the works 
and in the discourse of others. Man is the most imitative of all 
animals; he not only imitates intentionally what he thinks has any 
grace or beauty, but even without intention, he is led by a kind of 
instinct, (which it is difficult to resist), into the modes of speaking, 
thinking-, and acting-, which he has been accustomed to see and 



184 Jl Grammar of Logic. book hi, 

hear in his early years. The more children see of what is regular 
and beautiful in what is presented to diem, the more they are led 
to observe and to imitate it.' 

Carol. This is the chief part of their stock, and descends to them 
by a kind of tradition from those who came before them; and we 
shall find, that the Fancy of most men is furnished from those with 
whom they have conversed, as well as from their religion, language, 
and manners. 

Illus. 2. Secondly, By the additions or innovations that are pro- 
perly their own, their Trains of Thinking will be greater or less, in 
proportion to their study and invention ; but in the bulk of mankind, 
study and invention are not very considerable. Hence the barren- 
ness of their mind. 

Obs. Every profession, and every rank in life, has a manner of 
Thinking, and a turn of Fancy that are peculiarly its own ; and by 
winch it is characterized in plays and works of humour. The bulk 
of men of the same nation, of the same rank, and of the same occu- 
pation, are cast as it were in the same mould. This mould itself 
changes gradually, but slowly, by new inventions, by intercourse 
with strangers, or by other accidents. 

419. The several imaginations even of men of good parts., 
never serve them readily, except in things wherein they 
have been much exercised. A minister of state holds a 
conference with a foreign ambassador, with no greater emo- 
tion than a professor in a college prelects to his pupils. The 
Imagination of each presents to him what the occasion re- 
quires to be said, and how it should be delivered. Let them 
change places, and either would find himself at a loss. (See 
Art. 421.) 

libit. The habits which the human mind is capable of acquiring 
by exercise, are in many instances wonderful ; in none more won- 
derful, than in that versatility of Imagination which a well-bred 
man acquires, by being much exercised in the various scenes of 
life. In the morning he visits a friend in affliction. Here his Im- 
agination brings forth from its store every topic of consolation ; 
every thing that is agreeable to the laws of friendship and sympa- 
thy, and nothing that is not so. From thence he drives to the min- 
ister's levee, where Imagination readily suggests what is proper to 
be said or replied to every man, and in what manner, according to 
the degree of acquaintance or familiaritj', of rank or dependence, 
of opposition or concurrence of interests, of confidence or distrust, 
that is between them. Nor does all this employment hinder him 
from carrying on some design with much artifice, and endeavouring 
to penetrate into the views of others through the closest disguises. 
From the levee he goes to the House of Commons, and speaks upon 
the affairs of the nation; from thence to a ball or assembly, and 
entertains the ladies. His Imagination puts on the friend, the 
coin-tier, the patriot, the fine gentleman, with more ease than we 
put off one suit and put on another. 

Corol. This is the effect of training and exercise. For a man of 



«hap. vi. Of the Train of Thought in the Mind. 183 

equal parts and knowledge, but unaccustomed to those scenes 
of public life, is quite disconcerted when first brought into them. 
His thoughts are put to flight, and he cannot rally them. 

420. Feats of Imagination may be learned by application 
and practice, as wonderful and as useless as the feats of 
balancers and rope-dancers. (Art. 131.) 

Ilhis. 1 . When a man can make a hundred verses standing on one 
foot, or play three or four games at chess at the same time without 
seeing the board, it is probable he hath spent his life in acquiring 
such a feat. However, such unusual phenomena shew what habits 
of Imagination may be acquired. 

2. When such habits are acquired and perfected, they are exer- 
cised without any laborious effort ; like the habit of playing upon 
an instrument of music. There are innumerable motions of the fin- 
gers upon the stops or keys, which must be directed in one particu- 
lar train or succession. There is only one arrangement of those 
motions that is right, while there are ten thousand that are wrong, 
and would spoil the music. The musician thinks not in the least of 
the arrangement of those motions ; he has a distinct idea of the tune, 
and wills to play it. The motions of the fingers arrange themselves, 
so as to answer his intention. ( Illus. 2. Art. 138.) 

3. In like manner, when a man speaks upon a subject with which 
he is acquainted, there is a certain arrangement of his Thoughts 
and words necessary to make his discourse sensible, pertinent, and 
grammatical. In every sentence, there are more rules of grammar, 
logic, and rhetoric, that may be transgressed, than there are words 
and letters in the sentence. He speaks without thinking of any of 
those rules, and yet observes them all, as if they were all in his eye. 

4. This is a habit so similar to that of a player on an instrument, 
that both seem to be acquired in the same way, that is, by much 
practice, and the power of habit. ("Art. 126.) 

5. When a man speaks well and methodically upon a subject 
without study, and with perfect ease, I believe we may take it for 
granted that his Thoughts run in a beaten track. There is a mould 
in his mind, which has been formed by much practice, or by study, 
for this very subject, or for some other so similar and so analogous, 
that his discourse falls with ease into this mould, and takes its form 
from it. 

III. Of the 3Ieans of improving a Train 6f Thought. 

421. We have now considered the operations of Fancy 
that are either spontaneous or regular; and have endeavor- 
ed to account for their regularity and arrangement. The 
natural powers of Judgment and Invention, the pleasure 
that always attends the exercise of those powers, the means 
we have of improving them by our imitation of others, and 
the effect of practice and habit, sufficiently account for this 
phenomenon, this Train of Thought, without supposing any 



186 Ji Grammar of Logic, book us. 

unaccountable attractions by which our Ideas arrange them- 
selves. (See Art, 127. and 128.) 

fflus. 1. But we are able to direct our thoughts in a certain course,, 
so as to perform a destined task. 

2. Every work of art has its model framed in the Imagination. 
Here the Iliad of Homer, the Republic of Plato, the Principia of 
Newton, were fabricated. Shall we believe, that those works took 
the form in which they now appear of themselves ? That the sen- 
timents, the manners, and the passions arranged themselves at once 
in the mind of Homer, so as to form the Iliad ? Was there no more 
effort in the composition, than there is in telling a well-known tale, 
or singing a favourite song ? This cannot be believed. (~Examp!e, 
Art. 413.) 

3. Granting that some happy Thought first suggested the design 
of singing* the wrath of Achilles; yet, surely, it was a matter of 
Judgment and choice where the narration should begin, and -vlicre 
it should end. 

4. Granting that the fertility of the poet's Imagination suggested 
a variety of rich materials ; was not Judgment necessary to select 
what was proper, to reject what was improper, to arrange the mate- 
rials into a just composition, and to adapt them to each other, and 
to the design of the whole ? ("Art. 244.) 

5. No man can believe that Homer's ideas, merely by certain- 
sympathies and antipathies, by certain attractions and repulsions in- 
herent in their natures, arranged themselves according - to the most 
perfect rules of epicpoetry ; and Newton's according to the rules oi 
Mathematical composition. fSee Art. 275. Example 2. J 

Coiol. The Train of Thinking, therefore, is capable of being 
guided and directed, much in the same manner as the hoi - se vvc ride 
The horse has his strength, his agility, and his mettle in himself; 
he has been taught certain movements, and many useful habits 
that make him more subservient to our purposes, and obedient to 
our will : but to accomplish a journey, he must be directed: by the 
rider. 

422. In like manner, Fancy has its original powers, which 
are very different in different persons ; it has likewise more 
regular motions, to which it has been trained by a long 
course of discipline and exercise ; and by which it may, 
extempore, and without much effort, produce things that 
have a considerable degree of beauty, regularity, and design. 
(Art. 264.) 

Illus. But the most perfect works of design are never extempo- 
rary. Our first Thoughts are reviewed ; we place them at a proper 
distance ; examine every part, and take a complex view of the 
tvlioie : by our critical faculties, we perceive this part to be redund- 
ant, that deficient ; here is a want of nerves, there a want of deli- 
cacy ; this is obscure, that too diffuse : tilings are marshalled anew, 
according to a second and more deliberate judgment ; what was 
v. n "cut, is supplied; what was dislocated, is put in joint; reduji 



chap. vn. Of Prejudices. 187 

Jancies are lopped off, and the whole polished. (See Art. 270. and 
Mies.) 

2. Though poets of all artists make the highest claim to inspira- 
tion, vet if we believe Horace, a competent judge, no production in 
that art can have merit, which has not cost such labour as this in the 
birth. (See Art. 277. and Illus.) 

CoroL The conclusion we would draw from all that has been said 
upon tills subject is, That every thing that is regular in that Train 
of Thought, which we call Fancy or Imagination, from the little 
designs and reveries of children, to the grandest productions of hu- 
man genius, was originally the offspring of imitation, judgment, and 
taste, applied with some effort greater or less. ( Corel. 1. and 2. Art, 
264.) What one person composed with art and judgment, is imi- 
tated by another with great ease. What a man himself at first com- 
posed with pains, becomes by habit so familiar, as to offer itself 
spontaneously to his Fancy afterwards : but nothing of merit that is 
regular, was ever conceived without design, nor executed without 
attention and care. (See the Illus. and Examples to Art. 275.) 



CHAPTER VII. 

OF PREJUDICES. 

423. The perfection of judgment is, to compare our 
ideas fairly and candidly, either by juxta-position, as in the 
case of intuitive propositions, or by the intervention of inter- 
mediate ideas, when proof is requisite, and to pass a decision 
on that comparison, according to truth and justice, unbiassed 
by partiality or prejudice, unseduced by fallacious appear- 
ances in things, by ambiguities in words, or by a disposition 
to deceive, or to be deceived. (See Art. 278. and 358.) 

Illus. As, then, the purpose of all our inquiries is, to discover 
truth and knowledge, and as the completion of this discovery con- 
sists in discerning the agreement or disagreement of our ideas, it is 
plain that we cannot proceed one step without having constant re- 
course to the operation of judgment. We exert it immediately in 
cases of intuition ; we exert it at the conclusion of every process of 
reasoning, in determining whether two principal ideas agree or dis- 
agree ; and we exert it in every step of that process, in deciding 
concerning the agreement or disagreement of each couple of inter- 
mediate ideas. (Illus. Art. 279.) The candid inquirer, therefore, 
should study to preserve his mind in a state fitted to perform this 
operation in a proper manner, and to divest it of all obstructions or 
incumbrances which may interfere with its success. Without this 
precaution, it is vain to pretend to discover truth, because we shall 
only perplex und discompose our minds, spend our time in irksome 



188 A Grammar of Logic. book in. 

ness to ourselves, in disturbance to others, and sink deeper in false- 
hood and in error. After all the candour and patience we can 
exercise, the investigation of knowledge is a painful and laborious 
task ; but our labour and time are totally thrown away, without a 
legitimate exertion of judgment. (See Art. 285.) 

Corol. It is, therefore, a matter of the highest importance in 
Searching for truth, to know those impediments which obstruct the 
rectitude of our judgments, and to learn the rules we must observe, 
in order to conduct them with justice and expedition. This is a 
subject deserving most serious attention, and must not be omitted 
in a system of logic. 

424. Erroneous judgments are denominated prejudi- 
ces, or rash judgments, that is to say, judgments passed 
before we have duly examined all the circumstances of the 
case on which we intend to decide. Prejudices, generally 
relate to opinions ; prepossessions to attachments ; the 
former refer chiefly to things, the latter to persons. (See 

Art. 358.) 

Obs. The term Prejudices, as here used, comprehends all the 
impediments which interfere with our forming judgments of every 
sort, whether of things or of persons. (_ Corol. 2. p. 100.) 

425. Prejudices are arranged by Lord Bacon under four 
heads, which he calls, in the language of the schools, 1. Idola 
Tribus, the Prejudices of the species; 2. Idola Specus, 
the Prejudices of the individual ; 3. Idola Fori, the Pre- 
judices of language ; and, 4. Idola Theatri, the Preju- 
dices of authority. 

Obs. These terms, though scholastic, are extremely significant. 
It is seldom we find the language of the schoolmen so replete with 
meaning. Prejudices are not improperly distinguished by the title 
of Idola ; because they occupy the place of truth in the mind, in the 
same manner as the idol attracts in the grove or the temple, the de- 
votion which belongs to the Author of nature. 

I. Prejudices of the first Class, or Idola Tribus. 

426. The first class, the idola tribus, are such Prejudices 
as beset the whole human species ; so that every man is in 
danger from them. They arise, says Dr. Reid, from prin- 
ciples of the human constitution, which are highly useful and 
necessary in our present state; but, by their excess or de- 
fect, or wrong direction, may lead us into error. (See Art. 
237. and Illus.) 

Obs. As the active principles of the human frame are wisely con- 
trived by the Author of our being, for the direction of our actions, 
and yet, without proper regulation and restraint, are apt to lead us 
wrong ; so it is also with regard to those parts of our constitutiois 



chap. vn. Of Prejudices. 18.9 

that have influence upon our opinions. Of this we may take the fol- 
lowing 1 instances : 

427. (i.) First, Men are prone to be led loo much by au- 
thority in their opinions. (See Art. 235. and lllus.) 

Illus. 1. In the first part of life we have no other guide; and 
without a disposition to receive implicitly what we are taught, we 
should be incapable of instruction, and incapable of improvement. 
{See Illus. Art. 234.) 

2. When judgment is ripe, there are many things in which we 
are incompetent judges. In such matters, it is most reasonable to 
rely upon the judgment of those whom we believe to be competent 
and disinterested. The highest court of judicature in the nation 
relies upon the authority of lawyers and physicians in matters be- 
longing to their respective professions. (See Art. 313. Illus.) 

3. Even in matters, to the knowledge of which we have access, 
authority always will have, and ought to have, more or less weight, 
in proportion to the evidence on which our own judgment rests, 
and the opinion we have of the judgment and candour of those who 
differ from us, or agree with us. The modest man, conscious of his 
own fallibility in judging, is in danger of giviiig too much to authori- 
ty; the aiTogant, of giving too little. 

4. In all matters belonging to his cognizance, every man must be 
determined by his own final judgment, otherwise he does not act 
the part of a rational being. Authority may add weight to one 
scale; but the man holds the balance, and judges what weight he 
should allow to authority. 

Corol. As therefore oar regard to authority may be either too 
great or too small, the bias of human nature seems to lean to the 
first of these extremes; and it is perhaps good for men in general 
that it does so. 

Illus. 5. When this bias concurs with an indifference about truth, 
its operation will be the more powerful. The love of truth is natu- 
ral to man, and strong in every well-disposed mind. But it may be 
overborne by party-zeal, by vanity, by the desire of victory, or even 
by laziness. When it is superior to these, it is a manly virtue, re- 
sulting from the exercise of industry, fortitude, self-denial, candour, 
and openness to conviction. 

6. As there are persons in the world of so mean and abject a 
spirit, that they rather choose to owe their subsistence to the chari- 
ty of others, than by industry to acquire some property of their 
own ; so there are many more who may be called mere beggars 
with regard to their opinions. Through laziness and indifference 
about truth, they leave to others the drudgery of digging for this 
commodity; they can have enough at secondhand to serve their 
occasions. Their concern is not to know what is true, but what is 
said and thought on such subjects ; and their understanding, like, 
their clothes, is cut according to the fashion. (Illus. 1. one! 2. Art. 
87.) 

7. This distemper of the understanding has taken such deep root 
in a great part of mankind, that it can hardly be said that they use 
their own judgment in things that do not concern their temporal 

17* 



190 A Grammar of Logic. book in, 

interest ; nor is it peculiar to the ignorant ; it infects all ranks, 
We may guess their opinions when we know where they were born, 
of what parents, how educated, and what company they have kept. 
These circumstances determine their opinions in religion, in politics, 
and in philosophy. (See Art. 233. and Mus. 1. and 2.) 

428. (n.) A second general prejudice arises from a dis- 
position to measure things less known, and less familiar, by 
those that are better known and more familiar. (See Art. 74.) 

Mlus. 1. This is the foundation of analogical reasoning, to which 
we have a gi'eat proneness by nature, and to it indeed we owe a 
great part of our knowledge. It would be absurd to lay aside this 
kind of reasoning altogether, and it is difficult to judge how far we 
may venture upon it. The bias of human nature is to judge from 
too slight analogies. (See Chapter IV. Book I.) 

2. The mistakes in common life, which are owing to this Preju- 
dice, are innumerable, and are evident to the slightest observation. 
Men judge of other men by themselves, or by the small circle of 
their acquaintance. The selfish man thinks all pretences to bene- 
volence and public spirit to be mere hypocrisy or self-deceit. The 
generous and open-hearted believe fair pretences too easily, and are 
apt to think men better than they really are. The abandoned and 
profligate can hardly be persuaded that there is any such thing as 
real virtue in the world. The rustic forms his notions of the man- 
ners and characters of men from those of his country village, and is 
easily duped when he comes into a great city. (See Example 2. 
Art.239.) 

3. It is commonly taken for granted, that this narrow way of 
judging of men is to be cured only by an extensive intercourse 
with men of different ranks, professions, and nations ; and that the 
man whose acquaintance has been confined within a narrow circle, 
must have many Prejudices and narrow notions, which a more ex- 
tensive intercourse would have cured. (See Corol. Art. 239.) 

1 429. (in.) Men are often led into error by the love of 
simplicity, which disposes them to reduce things to few 
principles, and to conceive a greater simplicity in nature 

than really exists. 

Jlhis. To love simplicity, and to be pleased with it wherever we 
find it, is no imperfection. On the contrary, it is the result of good 
taste. We cannot but be pleased to observe, that all the changes 
of motion produced by the collision of bodies, hard, soft, or elastic, 
are reducible to three simple laws of motion, which the industry of 
philosophers has discovered. 

Example. When we consider what a prodigious variety of effects 
depend upon the law of gravitation ; how many phenomena in the 
earth, sea, and air, which, in all preceding ages, had tortured the 
wits of philosophers, and occasioned a thousand vain theories, are 
shown to be the necessary consequences of this one law; how the 
whole system of sun, moon, planets primary and secondary, and 
comets, are kept in order by it, and their seeming irregularities 
accounted for and reduced to accurate measures ; the simplicity of 



chap. vir. Of Prejudi 191 

the cause, and the beauty and variety of the effects, must give 
pleasure to every contemplative mind. By this noble discovery, 
we are taken, as it were, behind the scene in this great drama of 
nature, and made to behold some part of the art of the divine 
Author of this system, which, before this discovery, eye had not 
seen, nor ear heard, nor had it entered into the heart of man to con- 
ceive. 

Corol. There is, without doubt, in every work of nature, all the 
beautiful simplicity that is consistent with the end for which it was 
made. But if we hope to discover how nature brings about its 
ends, merely from this principle, that it operates in the simplest 
and best way, we deceive ourselves, and forget that the wisdom of 
nature is more above the wisdom of man, than man's wisdom is 
above that of a child. (See Art. 69.) 

Illus. 2. It was believed, for many ages, that all the variety of 
concrete bodies we find on this g'lobe is reducible to four elements, 
of which they are compounded, and into which they may be resol- 
ved. It was the simplicity of this theory, and not any evidence 
from fact, that made it to be so generally received ; for the more it 
is examined, we find the less ground to believe it. 

Example. The Pythagorians and Platonists were carried farther 
by the same love of simplicity. Pythagoras, by his skill in mathe- 
matics, discovered, that there can be no more than five regular so- 
lid figures, terminated by plain surfaces which are all similar and 
equal ; to wit, the tetrahedron, the cube, the octahedron, the dod- 
ecahedron, and the eicosihcdron. As nature works in the most 
simple and regular way, he thought that all the elementary bodies 
must have one or other of those regular figures ; and that the 
discovery of the properties and relations of the regular solids would 
be a key to open the mysteries of nature. 

Obs. 1. This notion of the Pythagoreans and Platonists has un- 
doubtedly great beauty and simplicity. Accordingly it prevailed* 
at least to the time of Euclid. He was a Platonic philospher, and 
is said to have written all the books of his Elements, in order to 
discover the properties and relations of the five regular solids. 
This ancient tradition of the intention of Euclid ill writing his ele- 
ments, is countenanced by the work itself. Tor the last books of 
the elements treat of the regular solids, and all the preceding arc 
subservient to the last. 

2. So that this most ancient mathematical work, which, for its 
admirable composition, has served as a model to all succeeding 
writers in mathematics, seems, like the two first books of Newton's 
Principia, to have been intended by its author to exhibit the mathe- 
matical principles of natural philosophy. 

Illus. 3. It was long believed, that all the qualities of bodies, and 
all their medical virtues, were reducible to four; moisture and 
dryness, heat and cold : and that there are only four temperaments 
of the human body ; the sanguine, the melancholy, the bilious, and 
the phlegmatic. The chemical system, of reducing all bodies to 
salt, sulphur, and mercury, was of the same kind. Fpiuagesmen 
divided all the objects of thought into ten categ-ories, and all that 
can Le affirmed or denied of any thing, into five ur.iversals or predi- 
cates. (Illus. 2. Art. 156.) 



19$ A trrammar of Logic. book nr. 

4S0. (iv.) One of the most copious sources of error in 
philosophy, is the misapplication of invention, (which Dr. 
Reid calls our noblest intellectual power) to purposes for 
which it is incompetent. 

Illus. 1. Of all the intellectual faculties, that of invention bears the 
highest price. It resembles most the power of creation, and is 
honoured with that name. Yet this power, so highly valuable in 
itself, and so useful in the conduct of life, may be misapplied ; and 
men of genius, in all ages, have been prone to apply it to purposes 
for which it is altogether incompetent. 

2. The works of men and the works of nature are not of the 
same order. The force of genius may enable a man perfectly to 
comprehend the former, and to see them to the bottom. What is 
contrived and executed by one man may be perfectly understood 
by another man. With great probability, he may from a part con- 
jecture the whole, or from the effects may conjecture the causes ; 
because they are effects of a wisdom not superior to his own. 

3. But the works of nature are contrived and executed by a wis- 
dom and power infinitely superior to that of man ; and when men 
attempt, by the force of genius, to discover the causes of the phe- 
nomena of nature, they have only the chance of going wrong more 
ingeniously. Their conjectures may appear very probable to 
beings no wiser than themselves; but they have no chance to hit 
the truth. They are like the conjectures of a child, as to how a 
ship of war is built, and how it is managed at sea. (Illus. 1. Art. 71 .) 

4. The slow and patient method of induction, the only way to at- 
tain any knowledge of nature's work, leaves little room for the 
favourite talent of invention. In the humble method of information, 
from the great volume of Nature we must receive all our knowledge 
of herself. To a man of genius, self-denial is a difficult lesson in phi- 
losophy as well as in religion. To bring- his fine imaginations and 
most ingenious conjectures to the fiery trial of experiment and in- 
duction, by which the greater part, if not the whole, will be found 
to be dross, is a humiliating - task. This is to condemn him to dig in 
a mine, when he would fly with the wings of an eagle. 

5. In all the fine arts, whose end is to please, genius is deserved- 
ly supreme. In the conduct of human affairs, it often does wonders ; 
but in all inquiries into the constitution of nature, it must act a sub- 
ordinate part, ill-suited to the superiority it boasts. It may combine, 
but it must not fabricate. It may collect evidence, but must not 
supply the want of it by conjecture. It may display its powers by 
putting nature to the question in well-contrived experiments, but it 
must add nothing to her answers. 

431. (v.) In avoiding one extreme, men are very apt to 
rush into the opposite. 

Illus. 1. Thus, in rude ages, men accustomed to search for natural 
causes, ascribe every uncommon appearance to the immediate in- 
terposition of invisible beings ; but when philosophy has discovered 
natural causes of many events, which, in the days of ignorance, 
were ascribed to the immediate operation of gods or demons, they 



chap. vii. Of Prejudices. 193- 

are apt to think, that all the phenomena of nature may be account- 
ed for in the same way, and that there is no need of an invisible 
Maker and Governor of the world. 

2. Rude men are at first disposed to ascribe intelligence and 
active power to every thing they see move or undergo any change. 
Whenever savages see motion which they cannot account for, there 
they suppose a soul. When they come to be convinced of the folly 
of this extreme, they are apt to run into the opposite, and to think 
that every thing moves only as it is moved, and acts as it is acted 
upon. 

Corol. Thus, from the extreme of superstition, the transition is 
easy to that of atheism ; and from the extreme of ascribing activity 
to every part of nature, to that of excluding it altogether, and 
making even the determinations of intelligent beings, the links of 
one fatal chain, or the wheels of one great machine. 

432. (vi.) Men's judgments are often perverted by their 
affections and passions. This is so commonly observed, 
and so universally acknowledged, that it needs neither 
proof nor illustration. 

II. Prejudices of the second Class, or Idola Specus. 

433. The Prejudices of the second class, or the idola 
specus, have their origin in something peculiar to the indi- 
vidual. 

Obs. As in a cave objects vary in their appearance according to 
the form of the cave, and the manner in which it receives the light, 
Lord Bacon conceives the mind of every man to resemble a cave, 
which has its particular form, and its particular manner of being 
enlightened; and, from these circumstances, often gives false 
colours and a delusive appearance to objects seen in it. 

Ithts. 1. For this reason, he gives the name of idola speciix to those 
prejudices which arise from the particular way in which a man has 
been trained, from his being addicted to some particular profession, 
or from something particular in the turn of his mind. 

2. A man whose thoughts have been confined to a certain track 
by his profession or manner of life, is very apt to judge wrong when 
he ventures out of that track. He is apt to draw every thing with- 
in the sphere of his profession, and by its maxims to judge of things 
that have no relation to it. 

Example 1. The mere mathematician is apt to apply measure and 
calculation to things winch do not admit of it. Direct and inverse 
ratios have been applied by an ingenious author to measure human 
affections, and the moral worth of actions. An eminent mathema- 
tician, says Dr. Reid, attempted to ascertain by calculation, the 
ratio in which the evidence of facts must decrease in the course of 
time, and fixed the period when the evidence of the facts on which 
Christianity is founded shall become evanescent, and when, in con- 
sequence, no faith shall be found on the earth. And the same 
ingenious author adds : " I have seen a philosophical dissertation, 
published by a very good mathematician, wherein, in opposition to 



194 A Grammar of Logic. book hi. 

the ancient division of things into ten categories, he maintains that 
there are no more, and can be no more, than two categories, to wit, 
data and quas&a." 

2. The ancient chemists were wont to explain all the mysteries of 
nature, and even of religion,, by salt, sulphur, and mercury. 

3. Mr. Locke mentions an eminent musician, who believed that 
God created the world in six days, and rested the seventh, because 
there are but seven notes in music. Dr. Reid knew one of that pro- 
fession, who thought that there could be only three parts in harmo- 
ny, to wit, bass, tenor, and treble ; because there are but three 
persons in the Trinity. 

4. The learned and ingenious Dr. Henry More having very elabo- 
rately and methodically compiled his Enchiridhim J\€etaphysicum, 
and Enchiridhim Ethicum, found all the divisions and sub-divisions 
of both to be allegorically taught in the first chapter of Genesis. 

Corol. Thus, even very ingenious men are apt to make a ridicu- 
lous figure, by drawing into the track, in which their thoughts have 
long run, things altogether foreign to it. 

Illus. 3. Different persons, either from temper or from education, 
have different tendencies of understanding, which, by their excess, 
are unfavourable to sound judgement. 

Example 5. Some have an undue admiration of antiquity and con- 
tempt of whatever is modern; others go as far into the contrary 
extreme. It may be judged, that the former are persons who 
value themselves upon their acquaintance with ancient authors, and 
the latter such as have little knowledge of this kind. 

5. Some are afraid to venture a step out of the beaten track, and 
think it safest to go with the multitude ; others are fond of singulari- 
ties, and of every thing that has the air of paradox. 

7. Some are desultory and changeable in their opinions ; others 
unduly tenacious. Most men have a predilection for the tenets of 
their sect or party, and still more for their own inventions. 

III. Prejudices of the third Class, or Idola Fori. 
434. The idola fori are the fallacies arising from the 
imperfections and the abuse of language, which is an in- 
strument of thought as well as of the communication of our 
thoughts. 

Illus. 1. Whether it be the effect of constitution or of habit, it is 
perhaps difficult to determine ; but, from one or both of these 
causes, it happens, that no man can pursue a train of thought or 
reasoning without the use of language. {Art. 90.) Words are the 
.?igns of our thoughts; and the sign is so associated with the thing 
signified, that the last can hardly present itself to the imagination, 
without drawing the other along with it. 

Example. A man who would compose in any language, must 
think in that language. If he thinks in one language what he 
would express in another, he thereby doubles his labour, and, after 
all, his expressions will have mere the air of a translation than of 
original composition. 



chap. vii. Of Prejudice^. 195 

Coral. 1. This shows, that our thoughts take their colour in some 
degree, from the language we use ; and that, although language 
ought always to be subservient to thought, yet thought must be 
sometimes, and in some degree, subservient to language. 

Ilhis. 2. As a servant that is extremely useful and necessary to 
his master, by degrees acquires an authority over him, so that the 
master must often yield to the servant ; such is the case with regard 
to language. Its intention is to be a servant to the understanding , 
hut it is so useful and so necessary, that we cannot avoid being 
sometimes led by it when it ought to follow. We cannot shake off 
this impediment, we must drag it along with us ; and therefore 
must direct our course, and regulate our pace, as it permits. 

3. Language must have main- imperfections when applied to 
philosophy, because it was not made for that use. In the early 
perious of society, rude and ignorant men use certain forms of 
speech, to express their wants, their desires, and their transactions 
with one another. Their language can reach no farther than their 
speculations and notions ; and if their notions be vague and ill de- 
fined, the words by which they- express them must be so likewise 

Corol. 2. There is reason to hope, that the languages used by 
philosophers may be gradually improved in copiousness and in 
distinctness ; and that improvements in knowledge and in language- 
may go hand in hand, and facilitate each other. But I fear the im- 
perfections of language can never be perfectly remedied while our 
knowledge is imperfect, 

3. However this may be, it is evident that the imperfections of 
language, and much more the abuse of it, are the occasion of many 
errors ; and that in many disputes which have engaged learned 
men, the difference has been partly, and in some wholly, about the 
meaning of words. 

Obs. Mr. Locke found it necessary to employ a fourth part of his 
Essay on Human Understanding about words ; their various kinds ; 
their imperfection and abuse, and the remedies of both ; and has 
made many observations upon these subjects, well worthy of the 
student's attentive perusal. 

455. Barron observes most justly, that infinite almost is 
the variety of the external appearance of the human race, 
and no less various, perhaps, are the constitutions of the 
minds of men. For this reason, unanimity is not to be look- 
ed for, even concerning business, and the common inter- 
course of life, far less concerning speculative tenets of diffi- 
cult conception, probably in some cases of exceptionable 
evidence. 

Illus. 1 . If judgments are formed by candid men on such topics, 
they v. ill be different, according to the different aspects in which 
the objects appear to their respective apprehensions. No incon- 
venience ensues from these different judgments, either in affairs, 
or in .-peculation, if men are animated by charity, and proper re- 
spect for the opinions of their neighbours, as well as for their own. 
They add variety to conversation and to action, correspond 



$@6 Jl -Grammar of Logid:. book m. 

difference which nature has established in the individuals of the 
species. They inspire patience and toleration, which afford exer- 
cise for several of the most amiable and social virtues. 

CoroL 1. If any nation, then, or large society of men, pretend to- 
be unanimous about tenets, speculative in their nature, and remote 
from vulgar comprehension, those of religion itself not excepted, 
the whole almost of the judgments from which that unanimity 
springs, will be indigested, if not inadequate ; that is, they will be 
the judgments of teachers or leaders, adopted without examination. 
The greater part of the followers are incapable of forming opinions 
for themselves, on account either of the imbecility of their faculties, 
or the abstract nature of the topics ; and of course their assent, 
founded on pretended judgment, is no better than acquiescence in 
the judgments of those they revere, concerning subjects which they 
do not fully understand. 

Jllus. 2. But though systems of established tenets, whether politi- 
cal, philosophical or religious, are certain sources of many imperfect 
judgments, and should be embraced with caution ; yet in some 
cases, particularly those of religion, they are perhaps necessary, if 
not altogether harmless. They are at least negatively good ; and 
if they do not keep men right, they often prevent their going farther 
wrong. The body of the people are unqualified to judge concern- 
ing the theoretical part of religion, and must be led by the opin- 
ions of men they account wiser than themselves. If they are not 
guided by wise and g'ood men, interested and designing men will 
take the direction of them. If decency and sobriety are not honour- 
ed with the superintendance of their sentiments, extravagance, and 
violence, and enthusiasm, will assume that command. Nobody can 
doubt of the propriety of giving the preference to the former 
guides ; nobody can hesitate that the peace and happiness of socie- 
ty require this preference to be maintained by every reasonable 
expedient. 

Coral. 2. An established system of religious faith, then, is certain- 
ly the combined opinion of the men best qualified to judge, held 
forth in opposition to the private opinions of all weak, or wild, or 
wicked men, with the laudable view of keeping the people as near 
the truth as possible, and of preventing controversies, which are 
often more pernicious than even heresies, to the comfort, to the 
improvement, and to the virtue of society. 

436. Education, the professed purpose of which is to lead 
us to the temple of truth by the easiest and shortest road, 
will not readily be supposed to retard or embarrass our pro- 
gress in that course in which it pretends to be a guide. It 
is, however, certain, that no station which we can occupy, no 
discipline that we can undergo, is more frequently prolific 
©f partial judgments. 

Obs. 1. In all periods of society, the greater part of teachers have 
been more concerned to inculcate the philosophy of their sect, or 
the religion of their church, than the pure doctrines of truth; and 
the inexperience of youth, with the respect they naturally entertain 



chap. vii. Of Prejudices. 197 

for advanced years and superior wisdom, cannot often fail to render 
such education a hot-bed of errors and prejudices. History and 
experience teem with examples of the fertility of this soil, and teach, 
in the strongest language, the necessity of the most assiduous at- 
tention, to prevent or eradicate the plentiful crop of noxious plants 
with which it is in hazard of being over-run. 

2. The fundamental error, perhaps, of education, has consisted in 
addressing truth, whether prudential, moral, or philosophical, to the 
memory rather than to the understanding. It is commonly suppos- 
ed, if a great deal of information be lodged in the mind, and com- 
mitted to the custody of faithful recollection, that it will prove a 
plentiful and useful magazine, from which the pupil may draw with 
facility and advantage every supply he may need in the conduct of 
life. But it is unfortunately forgotten, that accumulation of truth is 
only half the business of instruction, and is not even the more im- 
portant half. The more important part is to acquire the habit of 
employing to some good purpose the acquisitions of memory, by the 
exercise of the understanding about them ; and, till this habit be 
acquired, these acquisitions will not be found of very great use. 

Illus. 1. With regard to prudential truth, or the conduct of a 
pupil respecting his instructors, his parents, his friends, his equals, 
his attachments and amusements, the great fundamental rule seems 
to be, that good behaviour is both his duty and his interest, and that 
upon his observation of it his treatment and gratifications will 
depend. If the uniform and discreet conduct of the teacher, or the 
parent, makes him consider what this behaviour is, and forces him 
to reason about the practice of it, he will be happy and satisfied, he 
will be attentive and civil to others, and he will be prepared to 
judge for himself in the conduct of life, when he shall be obliged to 
think and act without the direction of his early guides. But if he 
have no rule of conduct, but the dictates of every sudden whim 
which may arise in his own fantastic imagination, or which the oc- 
casional indulgence or severity of an indiscreet superintendant may 
sugg - est, his conduct will be the result of foolish attachments or 
aversions, of caprice, or of passion. His wants will be multiplied 
beyond the bounds of nature, and the circumstances of his situation ; 
he will be miserable to himself, and disgusting to others. Advice 
and instruction will have with him no useful influence. His subjec- 
tion to authority will be his utter aversion, because it interferes 
with his gratifications. His application to study will be disagree- 
able, because he has no conception of the utility of knowledge. 
From such a train of unfortunate prejudices, what other conduct 
can ensue than that which we often survey ? Namely, a headlong 
career of the most unlimited gratification, as soon as he is emanci- 
pated from that mortifying restraint from which he has long and so 
ardently wished to disengage himself; and an insurmountable aver- 
sion to ever}' path of inquiry and truth, into which it had been the 
purpose of education to lead him. 

2. The history of Great Britain presents two striking examples of 
the pernicious effects of the prejudices of education, one political, 
and the other religious. Charles the First lost his life and his crow n 
by the arbitrary maxims of government he had received from hi& 

18 



198 A Grammar of Logic. boo** m, 

ancestors. James the Second lost his crown by the Popish educa- 
tion he had received in France. Though Charles the First is com- 
monly called a martyr to the doctrine and worship of the Church of 
England, and is accounted by the vulgar to have sacrificed his life 
in defending* her against the bigotry and violence of sectaries, whose 
hatred to her and him was insatiable } yet it is well known, that his 
attachment to that church was neither the first nor the chief cause 
of the discontents which generated and prolonged the civil war.. 
Religious jealousies and fears were then employed, as they have 
often been, to rouse, and irritate, and alienate the people. But the 
encroachments on property contrary to law, and the levying of mo- 
ney without consent of Parliament, alarmed all wise men, and excited 
that tremendous spirit of resistance, which terminated in the la- 
mentable fate of the king, and the destruction of the constitution, — 
evils that seem to have exceeded in magnitude every wish or con- 
ception of the patriots who first opposed the arbitrary measures of 
the crown. That Charles knew the constitution reprobated the le- 
vying of money by his own authority, we have no reason to doubt ; 
but he had been fatally educated in principles which suggested, that 
cases of necessity, or the wants of princes, were superior to the 
constitution or the laws ; and that if Parliament refused to grant 
what supplies he thought necessary, a case of necessity took place, 
and he was at liberty to exert his sovei-eign power, to provide for 
the salvation of the state. 

3. The education of James the Second in France, and his attach- 
ment to the Church of Rome, were the springs of the Revolution,. 
and of the ejection of the family of Stuart from the throne of their 
ancestors. Nothing perhaps but the bigotry of that prince could 
have saved the liberties of this country from extinction. Could he 
have relinquished his attachment to the Romish Church, could he 
have suspended or moderated that attachment, he might have 
reigned without a parliament, and trampled on the laws and reli- 
gion of his subjects. His finances, by economy and good manage- 
ment, were in perfect order, and nearly adequate to the annual 
expences of government. The calamities and disasters of the late 
civil wars were fresh in the memories of men, and all ranks were 
reluctant to renew them. The enthusiastic spirit which had in- 
flamed the body of the nation against his father, had now nearly 
spent its force, and nothing seemed wanting to success, but to allow 
the minds of men to cool, and to habituate them to the slavery that 
was preparing for them. The blind zeal, however, of the king, and 
his intemperate attachment to his religion, for the happiness of this 
land of liberty, hastened every event to a crisis. They so com- 
pletely disgusted friends and enemies, that the people, with the 
most unprecedented unanimity, pushed from a throne, without vio- 
lence or convulsion, a monarch and a family, who would have 
sacrificed the happiness and peace of a great nation to particular 
religious tenets. 

IV. The Prejudices of the fourth Class, or Jdola TheatrL 

437. The fourth class of Prejudices are the idola thcatri, 
by which are meant Prejudices arising from the systems or 



■«haf. vii. Of Prejudices. 199 

sects, in which we have been trained, or which we have 
adopted. 

Ulus. 1. A false system once fixed in the mind, becomes, as it 
were, the medium through which we see objects: they receive a 
tincture from it, and appear in another colour than when seen by a 
pure light. 

Example 1. Upon the same subject, a Platonist, a Peripatetic, and 
an Epicurean, will think differently, not only in matters connected 
with his peculiar tenets, but even in things remote from them. 

Illus. 2. As there are certain temperaments of the body that 
dispose a man more to one class of diseases than to another ; and, 
on the other hand, diseases of that kind, when they happen by 
accident, are apt to induce the temperament that is suited to them ; 
there is something analogous to this in the diseases of the under- 
standing. 

Example 2. A certain complexion of understanding may dispose 
a man to one system of opinions more than to another ; and, on the 
other hand, a system of opinions, fixed in the mind by education or 
otherwise, gives that complexion to the understanding which is 
suited to them. 

Illus. 3. Party spirit induces us to think, that all our friends are 
men of discernment, of integrity, of generosity, of liberal minds, of 
impartial views, and of great virtues. The case of our antagonists, 
their motives, qualities, and conduct, are directly the reverse. Their 
designs are the result of imprudence, folly, or iniquity. Weakness, 
wickedness, or selfishness, mark all their plans, and disfigure all 
their operations. They inherit no spark of discretion, enterprise, 
or public spirit. Truth is thus suppressed or misrepresented ; and 
in all the subjects of contest, there will not be found, on either side, 
a single sound or impartial judgment. 

4. Religious party-spirit, in former ages, chiefly misled and 
agitated the minds of men. Happily for the honour and peace of 
the present age, the influence of this most malignant disposition is 
now nearly extinguished. The progress of truth and knowledge 
has not been a little extended and accelerated by this fortunate event. 

5. Political party-spirit, however, still keeps strong hold of the 
minds of men ; and the misrepresentations and falsehoods with 
which it corrupts their hearts, and misleads their judgments, are 
sufficiently discernible. Did not attachment to party blind the un- 
derstanding, and obliterate the feelings of modesty and candour, 
men would be ashamed of the contempt or neglect with which they 
receive the plainest truths. On some occasions, indeed, this spirit 
appears to prompt such partiality, as not only despises the dictates 
of truth and reason, but disregards even the most important interests 
of society ; provided it may accomplish its favourite objects of am- 
bition. It is this species of prejudice, against which, in this island, 
it is particularly necessary to fortify the mind, because the tempta- 
tions to indulge it are very strong, while its effects are most detri- 
mental to public prosperity and peace. 

6. The prejudices of fashion seduce and pervert all mankind. 
Every thing experiences the influence of fashion. All ranks arc 
subjected to its power Manners, arts, language, dress, anutse- 



200 Ji Grammar of Logic. book m, 

ments, studies, science, even laws and religion, are not exempted 
from its sway. Fashion is, on many occasions, the opinion of the 
majority of society, or of the more illustrious part of it ; and so 
ductile are the minds of many men, that they consider its dictates 
as of superior authority to those of reason itself. fSee Illus. Art. 
240.J Of all our prejudices, however, those supported by fashion 
are perhaps the most justifiable, at least they are often the most 
difficult to surmount. In all matters of indifference, it would seem, 
we should submit to fashion ; and as we would not chuse to follow 
any authority, in judging- of right and wrong, so it appears unrea- 
sonable to be singular in cases where neither is concerned. 

Carol. The prejudices of fashion are nearly allied to those of au- 
thority. They differ only in the extent of the source from which 
they are derived. Under the former, we are guided by the prac- 
tice or opinion of the great body of the people ; under the latter, 
we follow the opinions and example of eminent individuals. Au- 
thority is most detrimental to all inquiries after truth, and has 
perhaps obstructed more the progress of knowledge, than all other 
causes conjoined. It lias infested and corrupted the investigations 
of philosophy in all ages. Even the enlightened spirit of the pres- 
ent age is not altogether delivered from its dominion. 

V, Bides to prevent Prejudices, and direct oar Judgments. 

438. Rule 1. Beware of precipitation, and never decide 
concerning the truth or falsehood of any proposition, till you 
have ascertained, 1st. Whether the words accurately ex- 
press the ideas, which the proposition would convey to your 
mind; 9.dly. Whether you have distinct conceptions of 
those ideas; idly. Whether your mind is divested of preju- 
dices; and 4lhly. Whether you have fully canvassed the 
evidence. 

Obs. All this precaution may not be necessary to prevent mis- 
take in every judgment we form. For in all sciences, arts, and 
affairs, we pass many judgments without much attention or pre- 
meditation, because the agreement or disagreement of the ideas 
compared, is obvious on the slightest inspection. But when the 
pursuit of truth solicits us into new, and perhaps obscure, paths of 
inquiry ; when we reach judgments, which lead to inferences ex- 
traordinary and alarming f or, when our decisions differ from those 
of men eminent for capacity and discernment, or are likely to involve 
us in controversy ; we should reiterate, with patient attention, every 
precaution. 

Illus. 1. Such a practice is suitable to, and is demanded by, the 
character of a candid inquirer. It may perhaps retard our progress, 
but it will cause us to march on surer ground. It will habituate our 
minds to accuracy, and will give us confidence in their operations. 
It will save the irksome sensation which results from the detection 
of precipitation and mistake ; and it may prevent much trouble by 
excluding errors from theories, which, if carelessly or rashly over- 
looked in- their principles, may lay in ruins the labours of many 
painful hours, 



chap. vii. Of Prejudices. 201 

Example. The most patient investigators have always been the 
most successful inquirers, and the most prudent and fortunate men, 
have generally been most remai-kable for the candour and the cool- 
ness of their understandings. Two of the greatest philosophers the 
world ever saw, Lord Bacon and Sir Isaac Newton, are in nothing 
so much superior to all other philosophers, as in the deliberation 
and patience with which they proceeded in their researches. No 
confidence, no presumption, no vain censure of the precipitancy of 
former inquirers, no zeal for party, no partiality to system or au- 
thority, ever mislead their minds, or disgrace their investigations. 
They seek truth alone, and they search for her with the caution of 
men conscious of her importance, and of the difficulty of finding her. 
They embrace her with cordiality wherever they meet her, but 
they will not adopt speculation for fact, nor be satisfied with the . 
semblance in place of the reality. 

Jllus. 2. Prudent judgment in business, chiefly distinguishes the 
wise man from the fool. The fool frequently possesses sensibility, 
vivacity, recollection, and information. He is often in these articles 
superior to the man of wisdom and discretion ; but he cannot, or 
will not, make a proper use of the materials he has provided. He 
fancies ideas to agree which do not agree. He judges precipi- 
tately and erroneously. His conduct is directed by his judgments. 
His opinions, accordingly, expose him to ridicule and contempt, and 
his actions to reproach and misfortune. 

3. The essence of wisdom, on the other hand, consists in the 
passing of just judgments on the men, and the thing-s, about which, 
in the affairs of life, we are called to decide. It is the offspring or 
companion of discernment, and discernment is nothing more than 
that prudent examination, previous to judgment, which leads us to 
decide according to truth. The wise man, it is said, sees farther 
into futurity than other men, or excels in the faculty of anticipa- 
tion ; but this superiority is an evidence only of the accuracy of his 
judgment relative to things past. He supposes, that future events 
in similar circumstances will resemble the past. His conceptions of 
the past are accurate, and he can scarcely err in his opinions of the 
future. 

439. Rule 2. If, .at\er employing every precaution, you 
still find information incomplete, or ideas not sufficiently 
clear, suspend judgment till farther investigation, or greater 
experience shall qualify you to decide. 

Obs. This rule may be supposed to be comprehended under the 
preceding ; because, if we never judge with precipitation, we 
must, eventually, suspend that operation, whenever the evidence is 
not satisfactory. But the prudent and rational conduct which this 
rule inculcates, is so momentous, both in science and in business, 
that it appeared to merit a separate enunciation and illustration. 

Illus. 1. A degree of indecision, which presupposes a doubt of 
the truth of every proposition we have not examined, is requisite to 
every candid inquirer. But hesitation and suspense are uneasy 
feelings to many minds, that are impatient to reach a determination. 
In many instances, if we proceed with propriety, we must observe 

18* 



30.2 Jl Grammar of Logic. book hi- 

the necessity of suspense of judgment, because our inquiries termi- 
nate in subjects beyond our comprehension. Barron considers the 
cases to which this rule especially applies, to be those in which 
judgment comes within our comprehension; but we hesitate, ei- 
ther because ideas are not sufficiently distinct, or because we have 
not discovered the intermediate steps whicli shew their relation. In 
such cases, a candid inquirer must suspend judgment, because he 
can do nothing else. Should he go on, it is perfect accident if he 
reach a just determination. 

2. When the mind is embarrassed and perplexed, it is often pro- 
per to relinquish the subject of inquiry for some time ; and to 
resume it, after an interval of other employment. Its faculties re- 
turn to the examination with new vigour, more experience, quicker 
discernment, and frequently with success. But the more common 
method is, to pore upon the topic which engages attention, and in- 
stead of seeking for intermediate ideas, if it be a subject of argu- 
ment, or farther information, if it be a matter of fact, the inquirer 
retires to his closet, and forms theories which have no foundation 
either in reason or in truth. This spirit is fortunately banished, in 
a great measure, from the regions of philosophy, but it still remains 
in politics and in business. 

Example. Men who cannot conduct their own private affairs, are 
usually expert theoretical politicians. The empiric who cannot find 
a panacea for his own disease, sets about curing the maladies of the 
state. A theoretical politician is exceedingly wise in conversation, 
but his speculations are rarely verified by experience. He pro- 
ceeds on fallacious principles. He reasons on the. supposition, that 
the motives and conduct of men are what they should be ; or that 
men will act from steady principles of justice or interest. But the 
far greater part of their actions, are the result of unaccountable at- 
tachment or passion, of fancy, feeling, whim, caprice. These can 
make no part of any theory, because they transcend all rules of cal- 
culation, and falsify every conclusion founded on reason and common 
sense. 

Corol. 1. A man, therefore, who wishes to gain real influence in 
the world, will never rest resolutions on speculation. He will mix 
with mankind, and accommodate his opinions to characters and cir- 
cumstances ; and if these lead not to decision, he will patiently 
suspend judgment, and remain inactive ; or he will act so ambigu- 
ously, that he may avail himself of better information when it shall 
occur. 

2. Suspense of judgment, at least suspense in uttering judg- 
ments, if they contain any thing harsh, disagreeable, unpleasant, or 
even impolite, is particularly necessary in all good company, and 
among all men of knowledge. Without this exercise of civility, 
we cannot expect to be favoured with the communications of supe- 
rior information. We cannot render ourselves acceptable to those 
from whom we may derive the most essential benefits. We shall 
discompose and embarrass delicate society, we shall be exposed to 
critical reprehension, or involved in controversy, the bane of all 
good intercourse, and insuperable impediments in the acquisition of 
truth. 

Illus. 3. Modesty in judgment is peculiarly graceful and promis- 
ing in young inquirers. It is always interpreted in the most favoiy- 



t jiai'. vii. Of Prejudice a. 203 

able sense ; as a mark of ingenuousness, and a consciousness of the 
difficulty of attaining- useful knowledge ; dispositions which power- 
fully solicit liberal and enlightened minds to impart important aid. 
On the other hand, petulance, forwardness, and presumption, sub- 
ject young' inquirers to every disadvantage, and to many mortifica- 
tions. They alarm men of superior parts and improvement, and 
render them averse to intimacy with persons from whom nothing 1 is 
to be expected but irritation or disgust. They bring- into suspicion 
the soundness of their understanding's; so that these can hardly ob- 
tain the reputation of just judgment even when it is deserved. 

4-40. Rule 3. Always remain satisfied with the evidence 
which the nature of a proposition admits; because, To de- 
cide without evidence, is weakness and absurdity' — To be 
satisfied with no evidence, is scepticism — To demand the 
same kind or degree of evidence for every proposition, is 
unnatural and unreasonable. 

Illtis. 1. The propositions of science, of arts, and of business, are 
supported by different kinds of evidence. No candid reasoner will 
demand the same species of evidence for them all. He is entitled to 
no other than the nature of each affords. Few subjects admit that 
complete conviction which excludes the possibility of doubt. The 
far greater part present only higher or lower degrees of probability. 
Though in the sciences of quantity, the mind proceeds on the firm 
ground of demonstration ; it would be absurd to expect equal satis- 
faction in morals, politics, or natural history, because these sciences 
are incapable of such evidence. 

2. Mcral and political propositions are supported by evidence de- 
duced from the human constitution, the order of nature, the happi- 
ness of individuals, and of communities, which is far from being so 
conclusive and direct, as to exclude hesitation, or even difference of 
opinion : yet these propositions involve truths very important to 
mankind. The rewards or punishments, assigned by their own 
minds, by the opinion of their fellow-creatures, and by the laws of 
society, depend upon them. 

Example. In natural history, which furnishes an account of ani- 
mals, vegetables, and minerals : in g-eography, which supplies 
instruction concerning the surface of the earth, what parts are co- 
vered with land or water, where hills, valleys, capes, cities, are 
situated, where currents run, and particular winds blow : in civil 
history, which recounts the transactions, opinions, and manners of 
nations informer times : in the administation of justice and civil go- 
vernment, which applies the laws of the community to the actions 
of individuals, in oiderto protect the lives and property of the inno- 
cent, and to punish the guilt)' : in the relations we daily receive 
from foreign countries, concerning the public events of nations, or 
the industry, customs, and sentiments of individuals : — in all these 
cases, we must depend upon the evidence of testimony ; and if the 
information be not in its nature incredible, and we have no reason 
to question the veracity of the relater, we ought to be satisfied with 
that evidence. 

Illus. 3. Testimony is perhaps among the least satisfactory chan- 
nels by which truth is conveyed to the mind. It is less satisfactory 



£04 A Grammar of Logic. book yi." 

than those of intuition and reasoning", at least in the sciences of 
quantity. It is also inferior to those of consciousness and sensation ; 
but it is, notwithstanding-, of high importance to the comfort, 
peace, and happiness of society. No inconvenience results from 
following it with discretion. Were it rejected, every disorder and 
danger would ensue. Man is made to be satisfied with it. His 
situation often admits nothing' more convincing. 

Obs. It was chiefly to vindicate the credibility of this species of 
evidence, to which inquirers sometimes will not allow the influence 
it deserves, that we advanced the rule under consideration ; and it 
may not be improper to sketch the limits within which this evi- 
dence appears to be unexceptionable. 

441. The first thing to be considered, then, is the nature 
of the relation which solicits our belief; because, if it be in- 
credible, we need not go farther; we may reject the testi- 
mony without examination, because we are more certain 
that what is incredible cannot be true, than v/e can be 
certain of the truth of any testimony. 

Hlus. A relation is incredible two ways, either by containing- an 
■action in itself impracticable, or by containing - circumstances con- 
tradictory to one another. 

1. If, for instance, we were told, that an ordinary man bore a 
mountain on his back from Italy to France ; or that there are men 
in the world who believe two and three make six ; we would re- 
ject such relations as unworthy of the least credit, because they 
contain actions and opinions which contradict all our conceptions 
and experience of human powers and faculties. 

II. If, again, a relation represent the performer of an action in 
different places at the same time, we refuse credit, because it in- 
volves a contradiction, and supposes the co-existence of things 
which we know to be impossible. But if the action be practicable, 
if the agent be adequate to the performance, and if the account be 
intelligible and consistent, the next step is to examine the nature 
of the testimony ; and if that also be unexceptionable, the mind is 
prepared to believe, and it will be impatient if not permitted to be- 
stow assent. 

442. The circumstances of inquiry relative to the credi- 
bility of the testimony, are, 1st. Whether the relater was 
fully informed of the nature and particulars of the action ; 
and, 'idly. Whether he could be seduced by any temptation 
to misrepresent them. 

Illus. 1. The article of full information may be subdivided into 
several other inquiries ; whether the action was an object of the 
senses of the relater ; whether he had full time to examine it, and 
possessed the perfect use of his faculties at the time of examina- 
tion ; whether he examined the same action, or similar actions, at 
different times, and always formed similar judgments ; and, final- 
ly, whether his account is supported, at least not contradicted, by 
other accounts of credit. 

2. With regard to the character of the relater, we have reason to 



6-hap. vii. Of Prejudices. 205 

rely on his veracity, if we have no cause to doubt it ; and if, at the 
same time, marks of sincerity, attention, or discernment appear, we 
cannot demand better foundation for assent. If an historian be ex- 
posed to no temptation to falsify or misrepresent, we suppose that 
he relates the truth ; because it is much more easy to relate truth 
than to relate falsehood. Truth requires no anxious caution to 
preserve consistency, no struggle to repress the remonstrances of 
conscience, which even the most abandoned men cannot altogether 
silence. It follows the natural and consistent train of causes and 
effects. It presents a credibility and authority which command 
conviction. 

3. But if, besides a general attachment to truth, we discover in 
an historian other symptoms of integrity, such as relating truth 
when it was his interest to conceal or misrepresent it, when it might 
hurt friends, gratify enemies, or expose himself to danger from the 
resentment of those whom it might offend ; we have the best rea- 
son to credit his testimony ; because lie discovers not only great 
attachment to truth, but the strongest aversion to falsehood, and 
evinces, that the temptations which induce men of little virtue to 
disguise truth, and those of no virtue to suppress it, do not affect 
him. He is at least sincere, and his testimony must be believed, 
unless it can be proved that he was misinformed or had been mis- 
taken. 

4. If a relation be consistent, the only ground for charging its 
author with mistake or misinformation, is its contradiction of other 
accounts of credit, or its containing transactions of which we can 
explain neither the motives nor the manner. If two historians con- 
tradict one another, which seldom happens, unless in cases of the most 
violent prevalence of party-spirit ; the evidence of both will be de- 
stroyed, or the small portion of credit that remains will operate in fa- 
vour of the more respectable author. If one author omit what is relat- 
ed by another, the omission may excite suspicion, but forms no direct 
argument against the credibility ; because many circumstances, 
unknown to us, might occasion the oversight of which we complain. 

5. Neither is the containing of transactions of which, we cannot 
explain the motives or the manner, a good argument against the au- 
thenticity^ a narrative ; because the deficiency maybe chargeable 
on the hearer or the reader, not on the relator. Men of all ages 
measure the motives, opinions, and actions of others, however dif- 
ferent from themselves in constitution, or dissimilar in situation, by 
their own ; and we nc ed not be told, that nothing can he more fal- 
lacious than such a standard. A remarkable passage of history may 
be produced to illustrate this observation 

Example. Herodotus, in travelling to collect materials for his his- 
torv of Greece, received intelligence that some Phoenician sea- 
men had embarked on the Red Sea, sailed round the south coast 
of Africa, and returned home by the Columns of Hercules, or 
th» Straits of Gibraltar. In which voyage, they must have cir- 
cumnavigated the Cape of Good Hope," commonly accounted one 
of the most brilliant discoveries of modern enterprise. The histori- 
an subjoins his own opinion ; that the incident was incredible, be- 
cause the voyagers reported, that In some part of their navigations, 
they had beheld the ecliptic, or the line of motion of the sun. gitu^ 



206 hM Granwiar of Logic. book hi, 

ated to the north of the zenith of their course. The historian, 
however, judged by a false standard ; he condemned as incredible 
what he did not understand ; because it was unknown, perhaps, 
in his time, that the appearance specified actually takes place, in 
the navigation he had related. He reprobates the account, for a 
circumstance which is the most plausible characteristic of its au- 
thenticity ; for it could hardly be supposed to have been conjec- 
tured unless it had been seen. 

Conclusion. We have now offered every rule and observation, 
which appeared of importance to be attended to in forming our 
judgments in science, arts, and business — we have unfolded the 
sources of those prejudices, which obstruct the rectitude of our 
judgments — we have inculcated patience and attention in forming 
them, when we have full information — we have enjoined suspense 
of judgment when information is wanting or deficient — we have 
recommended, finally, satisfaction with the best evidence that can 
be procured, and the propriety of judging, and acting on that evi- 
dence — we know nothing more that can be done to render our judg- 
ments sound and logical, but that we carefully habituate ourselvQS 
to the practice of these rules. 

REMARK. 

Having thus far conducted the pupil through a popular 
course of intellectual philosophy, agreeably to the doc- 
trines of the most respectable and most authentic authors, I 
take leave to offer him a word of advice previously to his 
entrance upon the remaining portion of the volume. Logic 
is neither a frivolous, an ostentatious, nor an unnecessarv 
branch of your studies ; but she pretends not to make me- 
chanical reasoners ; she pretends only to lend you her aid 
to find out truth, and to guide the exertions of your own 
faculties in the pursuit of knowledge. Her pretensions are 
at least commendable, and her efforts are entitled to the 
most patient reflection and candid examination, if, then, 
you will travel in the road that leads to the temple of truth, 
if you will employ your faculties to discriminate that celes- 
tial object when you have reached her sacred mansion, her 
handmaid, Logic, offers to conduct you thither; you have 
your choice then, whether you shall remain a stranger to her 
power, and be always the companion of those whom Preju- 
dice consigns to ignorance and insignificance ; or press on 
with those who become her candidates, who are grateful for 
her favours, and who improve them for their advantage. 
Strive, then, my friend, to obtain the flattering distinction 
claimed by superior judgment, and by which you can avoid 
the disgrace attached to ignorance and stupidity. 



TO« WW* 

GRAMMAR OF LOGIC 



CHAPTER I. 

OF IDEAS. 

443. That the young logician may proceed with perspi- 
tsuity, we begin with examining ideas as existing separate- 
ly, or detached from one another. Ideas as the impressions 
made on the mind either by external objects, through the 
medium of the senses, or by the consciousness which it has 
of its own internal operations have been defined in Articles 
.54. and 36. . 

Illus. 1. When an external object presents itself to any of the five 
senses, sight, hearing - , taste, touch, smell, some picture, or notion, 
or conception of it is formed in the mind; but this picture, or no- 
tion, or conception, is totally different from the object, and is called 
the Idea of it ; whereas, the object is called the Archetype of the 
Idea. C Art. 38. Illus. 1. 2. 3.) 

2. By sight, we receive the greatest number, and the most lively 
of all our Ideas ; as, for example, those of all the visible objects ia 
nature, animated and inanimated, with which we are already ac- 
quainted, or can become acquainted. By hearing, we get Ideas of 
natural and artificial sounds, particularly of the sounds of language, 
and the important information which they convey. The Ideas of 
the other three senses, taste, smell, touch, are not nearly so numer- 
ous, and they relate mostly to the preservation, or the comfortable 
subsistence of the individual. By taste and smell, we are directed to 
those aliments which are necessary and salutary, and are diverted 
from those which are hurtful or destructive. By the touch, we ex- 
amine the surfaces of bodies, and receive all those Ideas which that 
operation is qualified to suggest. All the Ideas we acquire through 
the medium of the external senses, are said to be derived from sen- 
sation. (Ar-t. 41.) The only other source of Ideas is our own con- 
sciousness of the feelings and operations, which pass within our 
own minds, and is called Reflection. fArt. 50. and 51.) 

•3. You will understand what is meant by Rcflection } as a source 



208 A Grammar of Logic* book rv% 

of Ideas, by the following 1 examples. Every feeling 1 or operation 
of the mind prompts an Idea of that feeling- or operation : thus the 
Ideas suggested by the feelings of fear, joy, hope, or by the opera- 
tions of perceiving, arranging, comparing, separating, and com- 
pounding our Ideas, communicate as distinct and as palpable im- 
pressions, as any that we receive through the medium of the exter- 
nal senses. But, as these feelings and operations are all attended 
with consciousness or consideration passing within the mind, they 
are therefore called Ideas of Reflection. (Art. 88. Illus. 1. 2.) 

444. After the mind has been replenished with ideas in 
the manner now explained, it begins to prepare them for 
the purposes of Logic, or the discovery of truth and know- 
ledge. It arranges them into classes, and assigns them 
different names, according as they are simple or complex, 

DISTINCT Or CONFUSED, ADEQUATE 01' INADEQUATE, PARTIC- 
ULAR Or ABSTRACT. 

I. Of simple and complex Ideas. 

445. A simple idea, as its name imports, can be con- 
templated only in one view. It cannot be divided or taken 
to pieces, because it does not consist of parts, being natu- 
rally indivisible. 

Illus. Most of our Ideas of the qualities of bodies are of this class^ 
as hard, soft, round, smooth, white, black, cold, hot : all Ideas, 
perhaps, of tastes, smells, sounds, as bitter, sweet, low, loud, and 
many of our Ideas of the feelings and operations of the mind, as 
of desire, aversion, hunger, pain, thinking, willing, discerning, 
reasoning, are also of this class. We cannot divide them, even in 
imagination ; they are perfectly uniform, and void of parts. 

446. A complex idea contains two or more simple or 
subordinate Ideas, into which it may be divided ; and these 
subordinate Ideas, when divided, may be considered sepa- 
rately. 

Illus. All our Ideas of substances are complex, as of animals, ve- 
getables, and the inanimate parts of nature. The Idea of a tree, 
for instance, includes a great variety of subordinate Ideas, as those 
of wood, stock, roots, branches, vegetable life, shape, leaves, bark, 
blossoms, fruit ; several of which subordinate Ideas, may be subdi- 
vided into other Ideas. All Ideas of figures, as of circles, squares, 
triangles, cubes, cylinders, pyramids ; most of the Ideas of virtues 
and vices, as of justice, fortitude, veracity, theft, ingratitude, false- 
hood, deceit. 

II. Of distinct and confused Ideas. 

447. The second division of Ideas was, into distinct and 
confused, or, which is much the same thing, into clear and 



chap. i. Of Ideas. 209 

obscure. Distinct or clear Ideas are those of which we 
have a full and perfect comprehension, and which we can 
readily separate or distinguish from all other Ideas. Con- 
fused or obscure Ideas are those of which we have not a full 
and perfect comprehension, and which we cannot easily 
separate or distinguish from all other Ideas'. 

Jllus. Distinct and clear Ideas are perceived with, a perspicuity 
and energy, similar to that by which the mind contemplates figures 
in mathematics, or numbers in arithmetic ; all their boundaries and 
their differences are completely discernible. Confused or obscure 
Ideas are like the colours of a rainbow ; they run into one another, 
and the mind neither perceives fully their nature nor their limits. 

448. The acquisition of clear and distinct Ideas is of the 
utmost consequence in the investigation of knowledge ; for 
the degree of conviction with which it is presented to the 
mind, is always in proportion to the degree of clearness 
and distinctness which we have introduced among our Ideas. 

Illus. 1. Were all our Ideas clear, all our knowledge would be 
demonstrative, a quality which belongs only to our scientific know- 
ledge. Obscurity, more or less, adheres to all our other Ideas, and 
leaves us only greater or less degrees of Probable Evidence, cor- 
responding to the less or greater obscurity of our Ideas. 

2. In the Mathematical sciences, and in Arithmetic, the evidence 
is demonstrative, because our Ideas of all the figures and numbers 
about which we reason are perfectly clear and distinct, and because, 
in comparing them, we perceive accurately whether they agree or 
disagree ; and if they disagree, how great the excess of one is 
above another, so that we can affirm, either that they are equal, or 
that the one exceeds the other by a certain quantity. 

3. In Morals, in Politics, in Arts, and in Business, almost all our 
Ideas are more or less obscure : hence, in comparing them, we can- 
not precisely pronounce whether they agree or disagree ; and 
though we were sure that they disagree, yet we cannot accurately 
ascertain the difference. 

Carol. The necessary consequence is, that in all these branches 
of knowledge, we can obtain no Demonstrative Evidence for truth. 
"We must be satisfied with Probable Evidence, (Art. 309. and 311.) 
and we should be attentive to procure Ideas as clear and distinct as 
possible, that we may reach the highest degree of probability (See 
Art. 440, 441, and 4&2. icith all their Illustrations.) 

III. Of adequate and inadequate Ideas. 
449. The third division of Ideas is into those which are 
adequate or inadequate. An .Adequate Idea is a perfect 
picture of its archetype, or contains a representation of all 
the parts of which the archetype consists. 

Tllu&. 1. It is different from a distinct Idea, because an Idea may 
19 



2 10 A Grammar of Logic. book-iv* 

be distinct and not adequate * that is, we may have a clear percep- 
tion of all the parts of an Idea, as far as these parts extend, though 
these parts may not constitute a complete collection of those of the 
archetype. 

Example 1. We may have a distinct Idea of a triangle, and yet 
not possess an Adequate Idea of a right angled triangle, an isosceles, 
or scalene ; which, besides the general Ideas of three sides and 
three angles, require that the sides and angles should be of a parti- 
cular species. 

Mus. 2. An Inadequate Idea is not a perfect picture of its arche- 
type, that is to say, it does not contain a complete representation of 
the parts of which the archetype consists. 

Example 2. Almost all simple Ideas are adequate, as those of 
colours, tastes, or qualities ; all ideas of mathematical figures, and 
of numbers, as triangles, squares, cubes, cylinders, fifty, a hundred, 
a thousand, ten thousand. 

Mus. 3. But although, when we examine Archetypes with atten- 
tion, Ideas will be as adequate as we can make them ; and when 
knowledge is either demonstrative, or even highly probable, Ideas 
must really, or very nearly, be adequate ,■ yet if we compare Ideas, 
not only with what we know of their Archetypes, but with what 
may be known of them, few of our Ideas, except those of mathema- 
tics and arithmetic, will be found to be adequate. There is hardly 
any other thing in nature, of which our knowledge is complete. 

Example 3. We are acquainted with a few only of the properties 
of animals, vegetables, and inanimate matter ; what substance is, 
whether of matter or spirit, is totally beyond our comprehension. 
f Carol. Art. 164. J 

4. The whole system of the transmutation, or the assimilation of 
nature, by which the nutriment of animals is converted into the 
different parts of which their bodies consist, bones, flesh, sinews, 
blood, hair, horn, &c. and by which inanimate nature is converted 
into the numerous parts of vegetables and metals, seemingly so 
different from one another, as trees, shrubs, leaves, bark, blossoms, 
fruit, gold, silver, mercury, &c. is to us altogether unintelligible. 
(.See Art. 164. Mus. 1, 2.) 

Carol. In all these cases, and in many others which might be ad- 
duced as examples, our Ideas are unavoidably inadequate. Our 
ideas are less adequate than they might be, chiefly from two cau- 
ses ; first, Carelessness in the examination of Archetypes, which 
overlooks some of their properties or parts; and, secondly, Inat- 
tention in ascertaining - the meaning of the words employed to de- 
note them, which words often do not express the same parts, or all 
the parts, in our minds, which they do in the minds of others. In 
both cases, our knowledge cannot be so complete as that of a per- 
son who has taken care to prevent these ervors or defects : and 
in every discourse or controversy with that person, we must misun- 
derstand him when these words occur. (Art. 86. Mus. 1. and 2.) 

IV. Of particular or abstract Ideas. 
450. The last distinction of Ideas considers them as par- 
ti puur or abstract. This is the most important distinc- 



chap. i. Of Ideas. 211 

tion, because it enters deep into the constitution both of 
language and knowledge. All things exist in nature as 
individuals or particulars. 

Example 1. Every subetance is the substance of some particular 
animal, vegetable, mineral, or inanimate piece of matter. 

2. Every quality of matter, as hard, soft, black, white, belongs to 
some substance or body, without which the quality cannot exist. 

3. Every virtue or vice has always relation to some agent; and, 
though we may speak, speculate, or reason concerning them, sepa- 
rated from this agent, yet we must admit, that, independent of him, 
they have no actual existence, nor any existence except in Idea. 

451. Particular and abstract ideas have been so 
fully examined in Chapter VI. Rook II. under the subject of 
Abstraction, that we here refer the student to that part of 
the Grammar, to save repetition. 

Obs. We have now explained the nature of Ideas, and the divis- 
ions of them which appeared to be of consequence sufficient to 
merit attention ; but as this Grammar is not an introduction to the 
idle syllogism of the schools, but, to sound reasoning in the sciences, 
in arts, and in business, and as Ideas are the materials of all reason- 
ing, before we relinquish this suhject, we shall point out the most 
frequent causes of their imperfections, and endeavour to suggest the 
best means of preventing or removing these impeifections. When 
we know the causes of error, the road to truth is to avoid it. When 
the Imperfections of Ideas are removed, they of course become clear 
and distinct. 

V. Rides for the Acquisition and Examination of Ideas 
and Words. 

452. Rule I. Furnish yourself with a rich variety of 
Ideas; acquaint yourself with things ancient and modern ; 
tilings natural, civil, and religious; things domestic and 
national ; things of your native land, and of foreign coun- 
tries ; things present, past, and future ; and, above all, re- 
collect, that " The proper study of mankind is man." Such 
a general acquaintance with things will be of very great ad* 
vantage. 

Ulue. 1. The first benefit of it is this : it will assist the use of rea- 
son in all its following operations ; it will teach you to judge of 
things aright, to argue justly, and to methodise Jjour thoughts with 
accuracy. When you shall find several things akin to each other, 
and several dissimilar, but agreeing in some part of the idea you 
form of them, and disagreeing in other parts, you will range your 
ideas in better order, you wdl be more easily led into a distinct 
knowledge of those things, and will obtain a rich store of proper 
thoughts and arguments upon all occasions. 

2, Another benefit of it is this; such a large and general acquaint* 



212 A Grammar of Logit. book iv. 

ance with thing's will secure you from perpetual admirations and 
surprises, and guard you against that weakness so peculiar to igno- 
rant persons, who have never seen anything beyond the confines of 
their own dwelling, and who therefore wonder at almost every 
tiling they see; every thing beyond the smoke of their own chim- 
ney, and the reach of their own windows, being new and strange to 
them. 

3. A third benefit of such an universal acquaintance with things, 
is this ; it will keep you from being too positive and dogmatical, 
from an excess of credulity and unbelief, that is to say, from a readi- 
ness to believe, or to deny eveiy thing at first hearing ; when you 
shall have often seen, that strange and uncommon things, which 
often seemed incredible, are found to be true ; and things very com- 
monly received as true, have been found false. 

Corol. The -way of attaining such an extensive treasure of Ideas, is, 
with diligence to apply yourself to read the best books ; converse 
with the most knowing and the wisest of men ; and endeavour to 
improve by every person in whose company you are ; suffer no 
hour to pass away in idleness, in impertinent chattering, or useless 
trifles: visit other cities and countries when you have seen your 
own, under the care of one who can teach you to profit by travel- 
ling, and to make wise observations; indulge a just curiosity in see- 
ing the wonders of art and nature ; search into things yourselves, 
as well as learn them from others ; be acquainted with men as well 
as books ; learn all thing's as much as you can at first hand ; and let 
as many of your Ideas as possible be the representations of things, 
and not merely the representations of other men's Ideas : thus your 
soul, like some noble building, shall be richly furnished with origin- 
al paintings, and not with mere copies. 

453. Rule II. Use the most proper methods to retain that 
treasure of Ideas which you have acquired; for the mind is 
ready to let many of them slip, unless some pains and labour 
be taken to fix them upon the memory. 

Direction. And more especially let those Ideas be laid up and 
preserved with the greatest care, which are most directly suited, 
either to your eternal luelfare, as a Christian, or to your particular 
statio?i and profession in this life ; for though the former rule recom-. 
mends an universal acquaintance with things, yet it is but a more 
general and superficial knowledge that is required or expected of 
any man, in things which are utterly foreign to his own business ; 
but it is necessary you should have a more particular and accurate 
acquaintance with those things that refer to your peculiar province 
and duty in this fife, or your happiness in another. 

Obs. There are some persons who never arrive at any deep, solid, 
or valuable knowledge in any science, or any business in life, 
because they are perpetually fluttering over the surface of things, 
in a curious and wandering search of infinite variety ; ever hearing, 
reading, or asking after something new, but impatient of any labour 
to lay up and preserve the Ideas they have gained : their souls may 
be compared to a looking-glass, that wheresoever you turn it, it re« 
ceives the images of all objects, but retains none. 



chap. i. Of Ideas. 215 

454. In order to preserve your treasure of Ideas, and the 
knowledge you have gained, Dr. Watts advises you to pin- 
Sue the following advices, especially in your younger year?. 

Advice 1. Recollect every day the things you have seen, or heard, or 
read, which may have made an addition to your knowledge : read 
the writings of God and men with diligence and perpetual reviews : 
be not fond of hastening to a new book, or a new chapter, till you 
have well fixed and established in your mind what was useful in the 
last: make use of your memory in this manner, and you will sensi- 
bly experience a gradual improvement of it, while you take care 
not to load it to excess. 

2. Talk over the things ivhich you have seen, heard, or learned, 
trith some proper acquai?itance. This will make a fresh impression 
upon your memory ; and if you have no fellow-student at hand, 
none of equal rank with yourself, tell it over to any of your ac- 
quaintance where you can do it with propriety and decency ; and 
whether he learn any thing by it or no, your own repetition of it 
will be an improvement to yourself : and this practice also will 
furnish you with a variety of -words, and copious language to express 
your thoughts upon all occasions. 

3. Commit to writing some of the most considerable improve- 
ments which you daily make, at least such hints as may recal them 
again to your mind, when perhaps they are vanished and lost. 
And here I think Mr. Locke's method of adversaria, or common- 
places, which are described in the end of the first volume of his 
posthumous -works, is the best ; using no learned method at all, setting 
down things as they occur, leaving a distinct page for each subject, 
and making an index to the pages. 

455. At the end of every week, or month, or year, you 
may review your remarks for these reasons : first, to judge 
of your own improvement ; when you shall find that many 
of your younger collections are either weak and trifling; or 
if they are just and proper, yet they are grown now so fa- 
miliar to you, that you will thereby see your own advance- 
ment in knowledge. And in the next place, what remarks 
you find there worthy of your riper observation, you may 
note them with a marginal star, instead of transcribing them, 
as being worthy of your second year's review, when the 
others are neglected. 

Obs. To shorten something of this labour, if the books which you 
read are your own, mark with a pen or pencil, the most considera- 
ble things in them which you desire to remember. Thus you may 
read that book the second time with half the trouble, by glancing 
over the paragraphs which your pencil has noted. It is but a very 
weak objection against tins practice to say, ./ shall spoil my book ,- 
for I persuade myself, that you did not buy it as a bookseller to sell 
it again, but as a scholar, to improve your mind by it ; and if the 

19* 



.214 JL Grammar of Logic book i\ 

mind be improved, your advantage is abundant, though your book 
yields less money to your executors.* 

456. Rule III. As you proceed both in learning and in 
life, make a ivise observation what are the Ideas, what the 
discourses and the parts of knowledge that have been more 
or less useful to yourself or others. 

Obs. In your younger years, while you are furnishing your mind 
with a treasure of Ideas, your experience is but small, and your 
judgment weak. It is therefore impossible at that age to determine 
aright concerning the real advantage and usefulness of many things 
you learn. But when age and experience shall have matured your 
judgment, then you will gradually drop the more useless part of 
your younger furniture, and be more solicitous to retain that which 
is most necessary for your welfare in this life, or a better. Hereby 
you will come to make the same complaint that almost every learned 
man has done after long experience in study, and in the affairs of 
human life and religion : Alas ! how many hours, and days, and 
months, have I lost in pursuing some parts of learning, and in reading 
some authors, -which have turned to no other account, but to inform me 
that they were not worthy my labour and pursuit ! Happy the youth 
who has a wise tutor to conduct him through all the sciences in the 
first years of Ins study ; and who has a prudent friend always at 
hand to point out to him, from experience, how much of every 
science is worth his pursuit! Happy the student that is so wise as to 
follow such advice. 

457. Ride IV. In endeavouring to attain accurate Ideas 
by the information which you receive, two operations are 
required, first, to compare Ideas with their Archetypes : 
secondly, to compare them with the established meaning of 
the words by which they are denoted. 

Obs. We need not employ much time to evince the necessity 
and utility of this rule. Unless accuracy be obtained, all our labour 
and search are in a great measure thrown away. If the foundation 
be not properly prepared and secured, the superstructure can never 
be finished with beauty and strength. Inaccurate Ideas are little 
better than no Ideas ; they are sometimes worse. In respect of 
every deduction resulting from them, they are not preferable to ig- 
norance, because such deduction cannot be legitimate. But this is 
not their only inconvenience ; they lead us to suppose ourselves" 
well informed when we are not so, and, of course, expose us to all 

* Note. This advice of writing, marking, and reviewing your re- 
marks, refers chiefly to those occasional ?iotions you meet with ei- 
ther in reading or in conversation ; but when you are directly and 
professedly pursuing any subject of knowledge in a good system in 
your younger.years, the system itself is your common-place-book, and 
Jnust be entirely reviewed. The same may be said concerning any 
treatise which closely, succinctly, and accurately handles any parti- 
cular theme. 



. ii.vt\ i. Of Ideas. 215 

the mortification which attends the detection of error, and to all 
those irksome contentions which arise from controversies about the 
meaning' of words. 

lllus. 1 . In comparing- Ideas with their Archetypes, nothing more 
is requisite than patience and attention ,■ for, by the exercise of these 
qualities, we shall render our Ideas as adequate and accurate as it is 
in our power to make them. We should, for this purpose, care- 
fully and repeatedly make comparison, particularly of Ideas which 
lead to consequences of importance, or which relate to topics of am- 
biguity or difficulty. 

2. Of the three kingdoms of nature, as the writers on natural 
history express themselves, animals, vegetables, and inanimate mat- 
ter, the objects generally remain under our examination as long as 
we please, and we have sufficient time to attend to every particu- 
lar necessary to be known. In the demonstrative sciences, also, 
Mathematics and Arithmetic, our Ideas of principles at least will 
be accurate ; and it is seldom that our conceptions, even of proofs 
and conclusions, are liable to ambiguity. The precise and defined 
nature of the subjects of these sciences, the simple and perspicu- 
ous language in which most writers have agreed to communicate 
them, render it almost impossible for a reader endowed with ordi- 
nary attention not to comprehend distinctly the sense intended to 
be communicated. 

3. It is, then, in the sciences susceptible only of probable proof, 
in morals, in politics, in metaphysics, in writings which convey mis- 
cellaneous truth, as history, criticism ; but particularly in contro- 
versial writings, and in conversation, that the hazard of inaccurate 
Ideas is very considerable, and the probability of avoiding them 
altogether is exceedingly small. One great source of ambiguity, in 
all these cases, is the indefinite nature of the subjects, and the dif- 
ferent aspects under which they appear to different inquirers ; but 
the greatest source is the unavoidable ambiguity of language, and 
the difficulty of ascertaining exactly the. meaning of words. This 
double indistinctness, both of the subjects and of the means of 
communication, cannot fail to produce important consequences in 
all our opinions and reasonings. 

VI. Of the Ambiguity of Words. 

458. Simple Ideas are not very numerous, and they are cal- 
led simple, partly because they admit no divisions into parts, 
but chiefly because, in receiving them, the mind is perfectly 
passive, and cannot acquire them without an actual survey 
of the external objects which suggest them, or an actual feel- 
ing of the mental operations which produce them. 

Example 1. The chief simple Ideas are those of the qualities of 
external objects, light, colours, tastes, smells, sounds,- those of the 
operations of the mind, perception, judgment, reasoning, willing ,■ 
and those of pleasure and pain, power, extension, unity, existence, 
which are derived partly from the senses, and partly from Riixxc- 

TIOJJ. 



316 3. Grammar of Logic. sook iy. 

Illus. There is no method of conveying- any knowledge of these 
Ideas, but by presenting 4 their archetypes to the external or internal 
percipients ; and if a person be deprived of any of the senses which 
should convey the knowledge of them, no words, no signs, no 
known mode of communication, can supply that defect : he must 
forever remain in ignorance. 

Example 2. If a person be deprived of sight, for example, he must 
be destitute of all conceptions of light and colours. If he require an 
account of thinking or willing, of pleasure or pain, we can only refer 
him to experience. 

Corol. About these Ideas, then, no controversy can exist; because, 
as all men must receive them from their archetypes, all men must, of 
course, receive either the same impressions, and must have these im- 
pressions constantly suggested by the words allotted to denote 
them ; or, even if they receive impressions in a manner in some 
respects different, they must speak and reason about them as if they 
were the same; for every person can speak and reason only about 
the simple Ideas in his own mind. 

Example 3- It is reasonabe to believe, that the Idea of the colour 
denoted by the -wovA green, is the same in the minds of all men : but, 
though there were some difference of Idea in different men, yet it 
could not perhaps be detected, for every person must speak and rea- 
son concerning that colour from the Idea of it which he possesses. 

459. The next class of ideas, about which, and the words 
that denote them, little difference or ambiguity can take 
place, consists of those complex Ideas, which result from 
collections of simple Ideas of the same kind. These are re- 
moved the first step from simple Ideas ; and as simple Idea6 
are clear and intelligible, the compositions made out of them 
partake of the nature of their constituent parts, and are like- 
wise clear and intelligible. 

Illus. The two sciences susceptible of demonstration present col- 
lections of such Ideas, and, on this account, among others, they are 
capable of the highest species of evidence. All the operations in 
Arithmetic, how complex soever, exhibit at no time any collections 
of Ideas, which result not from different modifications or fractions 
of the simple Idea of unity. All the enunciations and demonstra- 
tions of Mathematics, how compounded and refined soever, contain 
no Ideas which are not formed from modifications of the simple Idea 
of extension. All the triangles, circles, squares, and parallelograms, 
about which the mathematician is conversant, exhibit only differ- 
ent views and modifications of the same simple Idea of quantity. A- 
bout simple Ideas, of course, and those sciences which involve com- 
binations of them, men have differed very little, either in the con- 
ceptions of them, or in the language by which they are denoted. 
{See my Grammar of Rhetoric, Book III.) 

460. Thus far our path is luminous and patent; here, 
however, the field of perfect light terminates, and in taking 
another step, we find ourselves in some degree of darkness 



(in a p. I. Of Ideas. Qi7 

and obscurity. For, when we enter the confines of the oth- 
er sciences, morals, politics, criticism — when we contem- 
plate the subjects of miscellaneous knowledge, oratory, 
poetry, history, essays — or attend to the business of arts 
and common life — we immediately encounter complex 
ideas, comprehending large groups of subordinate Ideas, 
and these groups composed not of modifications of the same 
simple Idea, but of combinations of different Ideas, partly 
simple and partly complex, and we find it almost impossible 
to avoid mistakes. 

Example 1. When we examine the ideas denoted by the word 
beauty, a word in everybody's mouth, when speaking 1 of truth, arts, 
and animals, we are amazed at the multiplicity which it includes, 
and the combinations which it exhibits. When applied to thuth, 
it denotes some important proposition, established by a clear, but a 
refined train of proof ; as when we speak of a beautiful theorem, or 
a beautiful discovery. When applied to aximals, it includes the 
Ideas of shape, colour, utility, sensibility, acquired bodily and mental 
accomplishments, youth, health, gracefulness ,- as when we speak of 
a beautiful -woman : when applied to arts, it includes uniformity, 
variety, high polish, convenience, utility ,■ as when we speak of a 
beautiful picture. 

Example 2. Taste is another word in frequent use among 1 men of 
genius, and lovers of the fine arts, and it also will serve to illustrate 
to what ambiguity communication is in many cases unavoidably ex- 
posed. Taste signifies that sensibility to the beauties of nature, of 
genius, and of art, which results from a sound state of the imagina- 
tion, and thorough exercise of the understanding, which leads us to 
distinguish, and properly to prize, these beauties. {Art. 270. 
Illus. 1, 2.) 

Jtlus. 1. It is plain, that much ground of difference is laid in the 
nature of the objects of this internal sense, because every mail must 
judge from the state of his own faculties, and the cultivation of the 
faculties of no two men, perhaps, is entirely equal. Their Ideas of 
the objects of taste must share a similar differ- nee, and must cor- 
respond to the state of their respective faculties. It were easy to 
multiply examples ; but it will appear from tnose already adduced, 
that a double source of ambiguity prevails with respect to the 
Ideas and the -words which we have mentioned, and many more si- 
milar Ideas and -words, which every day occur in books and in the 
business of life. 

2. The Ideas which compose a complex idea may really be dif- 
ferent in different men's minds, according to the improvement of 
their faculties, or their powers of peFception ; but the greatest hazard 
ofeiror results from the inattention with which the complex Idea 
may be formed. 

Example 3. Thus, one man may omit some of the Ideas which 
compose the complex ones of beauty and taste ; others may add to 
them more I;!< as :han they naturally and justly contain. 

Hint. 3. Another g'reat source of ambiguity in every inquiry where 



818 Jl Grammar of Logic, book iv, 

body or spirit is concerned, is the nature of substances, whether cor- 
poreal or spiritual. What substance is, we are utterly ignorant. 
{Art. 349. Example 3.) All we can conceive of it is, that it supports 
qualities, and, of course, all our Ideas of substances are nothings 
more than collections of the qualities which we have found to be- 
long to them respectivety. Now, if other persons form not the 
same conception with us of any of these qualities, or if they either 
add to their number, or diminish from it, it is plain that their 
complex Idea of the substance can never agree with ours, and that 
in all communication concerning it, we and they must misunder- 
stand one another. {See Chap. IV. Book III. Gram, of Rhetoric.') 

Carol. From these Illustrations, the following important practical 
rule will be allowed to result, as a good preservative against ambi- 
guity. 

461. Rule 1. In all cases, when complex ideas come 
under our consideration, we should employ every precau- 
tion to render our collection of the constituent Ideas as 
complete and accurate as possible ; and whenever we dis- 
cover that our reasonings ami conclusions disagree with 
the reasonings and conclusions of those with whom we con- 
verse, or whose books we read, we should stop and re-exam- 
ine both the constituent Ideas, and the expression of them, 
because it is possible, that in the re-examination, we shall 
discover the cause of the difference. 

Illus. 1. The propriety and utility of every part of this rule ap- 
pears so obvious, as hardly to need any illustration. Happy had it 
been for the peace of society, fortunate had it been for the progress 
of knowledge, if it had always been punctually practised. All those 
irritating and frivolous disputes which pester conversation, almost 
all those controversies which have disturbed and distracted the 
world, would have been prevented. Consult the controversies 
which have involved, not individuals only, but classes and periods 
of learned men, and you will find that they have originated chiefly 
from misapprehensions of the Ideas and terms which furnish the 
ground of the difference, and that, if the parties had exercised any 
patience and pains to understand one another, before they began 
to dispute, they might have prevented much trouble and vexation 
to themselves, and much contention and disturbance to society, 
(See Chap. III. Book III. Gram, of Logic.) 

2. The famous controversy concerning the superior merit of an- 
cient or modei*n learning, which interested and divided almost all 
the learned men of Europe in the end of the Seventeenth and the 
beginning of the Eighteenth century, and which still interests, and 
sometimes diyides, learned men,' appears a pertinent illustration. It 
is a controversy about the meaning of words, and affords very little 
ground of difference of opinion, when the terms are fully ascer- 
tained. The parties have never considered, that no comparison of 
authors can exist, except in circumstances perfectly similar. If the 
state of ancient society gave encouragement to some efforts of gen' 
i us and industry, which are not now prompted by similar incitements. 



chap. i. Of Ideas. 219 

can we wonder, that these efforts should be more brilliant in the 
former situation than they are found to be in the latter ? If oratory, 
statuary, architecture, and perhaps poetry, received superior coun- 
tenance and patronage in Greece, than they found even in Rome, 
and much more than they have found in modern times, is it 
not natural to expect, that their exhibitions should be more de- 
serving- of applause ? 

3. If, on the other hand, the moderns possess superior knowledge of 
the system of nature, from the advantages which the progress of 
science has thrown into their hands ; if the improvements of govern- 
ment, and the extension of refinement and knowledge, have led 
them to excel in politics, in moral researches, and in the greater part 
of the useful arts, can we be surprised at their superiority ? It was 
impossible that the moderns could rival the ancients in the former 
case ; it is equally impossible that we should not rival them in the 
latter. The superiority in the one case, or the inferiority in the 
other, neither compliments nor impeaches the genius of either; it 
is the natural consequence of the different situations of human 
affairs, and, without a miracle, could not have been otherwise, 
Had the keen combatants in this controversy attended to this natu- 
ral state of the case, they would have avoided their ill-founded and 
senseless recriminations. The patrons of modern literary merit 
unjustly measure the merits of ancient genius by a scale adopted 
from modern ideas and manners; the patrons of ancient genius re^ 
taliate the same charge, and pretend to determine the eminence of 
modern genius by a scale derived from the ideas and manners of 
ancient times. Let these reasonable limitations "be admitted, and 
the shadow of a controversy would vanish : the difference would at 
least be found to be so frivolous, as to satisfy every man of the ab- 
surdity of the contest. (Chap. VI. Booh III. Gram, of Rhetoric.) 

Note. A second rule, respecting the ambiguity of words, is cou- 
ched in the following article. 

VII. Of Enumeration, Description, and Definition. 
462. Rule 2. After ascertaining the amount of a complex 
term by enumeration, by description, or by definition, em- 
ploy it always in the same sense, without adding to, dimin- 
ishing, or changing the Ideas it denotes. 

Illus. 1. Enumeration, commonly called divisicnby logicians, is 
a recapitulation of the subordinate Ideas, of which a complex Idea con- 
sists, and forms a very satisfactory method of explaining or ascer- 
taining that complex Idea. 

Example 1. The term gratitude includes the following subordi- 
nate Ideas ; a consciousness of favour received, a disposition to ac- 
knowledge it on every proper occasion, and a resolution to seize the 
^irst opportunity of returning a similar favour to the benefactor. 
Honour, in like manner, includes an unalterable regard to truth in 
words, humanity and generosity in actions, candour and forgi vend $ in 
thoughts, and .lesentment ofinsxdt or affrontr 

I'.lus. 2 Description, also, is ascrt of enumeration, but is appl' 



"2£0 Ji Grammar of Logic. book iv. 

cable chiefly to objects of sight. It is used often to distinguish ob- 
jects of sight, which have not obtained names, or of which the names 
are unknown. We describe a landscape, a river, a house, a town, a. 
ship, a horse, a tree, a robber, in order to communicate Ideas of these 
objects to those who have not seen them, or to enable those to dis- 
tinguish them when they do see them. Description is a recapitula- 
tion of the parts or properties of the object described. 

Example. 2. A landscape contains corn-fields, plantations, water 
running or stagnating, hills, houses, villages, animals , situate in such 
a manner as diversify it from all other landscapes. The colour, 
shape, strength, gentleness, fieetness, and easy motion,, which consti- 
tute the description of my horse, discriminate him from all other 
horses. A deserter, or a robber, is described by his stature, figure, 
complexion, features, and dress, or, in other words, by a recital of the 
particulars, which form his appearance, and which mark him out 
among other men. 

Illus. 3. Definition is the last method of ascertaining complex 
Ideas or general terms, and differs not esentially from the preceding* 
methods. The chief difference is the use of it on different occa- 
sions. It may be employed in fixing complex Ideas of all sorts, 
whether their archetypes are objects of the external senses, or are the 
creatures of reflection, that is, whether they exist in matter or in mind. 
It is used, however, chiefly to ascertain species, -whose archetypes ex- 
ist in the mind. 

A good definition consists of two parts ; by one part are marked 
those objects with which the thing denned has any common qualities ; 
by the other part are marked those qualities which characterize the thing 
defined alone. Nothing more can be done to ascertain the nature of 
any object, than to point out those objects with which it has any com- 
mon qualities, and next to enumerate the qualities peculiar to itself. 
{Art. 288.) 

Corol. 1. Hence the logical rule, that every definition should con- 
sist of a. genus and a specific difference, {Art. 179. and 168.) the genus 
denoting the common qualities, and the specific difference the charac- 
teristic or peculiar ones. (Art. 158.) 

Example 3. Suppose it were required to define what the mathe- 
maticians call a square, or a parallelogram, these most acurate of all 
logicians will tell us, that " a square is a figure which has four equal 
sides, and four right angles," and that " a parallelogram is a four- 
sided figure, of which the opposite sides are parallel." (Art. 170. 
Illus. and Corol.) 

Analysis. The things defined are species, that is, the square and 
the parallelogram are not a sqiiare and a parallelogram -which exist in 
»ome booh, or are delineated, on a particular board ; they stand for the 
entire species of squires and parallelograms, and mark the proper- 
ties commonto all the individuals of these species. (Art. i"82. Illus. 
and Corol.) 

The first part of the definition refers them to their genus, or cha- 
racterises them by the name of figures, by which it is signified, that 
they have something in common with all other mathematical species, cir- 
cles, triangles, rhombuses, ellipses, namely, they include space, and 
ire bounded by lines. 



hap. i. Of ideas. 221 

The second pail of the definition exhibits their specific difference, 
or enumerates the peculiar properties -which distinguish them from 
all the other species of the same genus ; squares have four right 
angles, and four equal sides ,• parallelograms have also four angles 
and four sides ,• but their specific difference consists in the opposite 
sides being- equal and parallel, which no other species have but 
themselves. 

Example 4. If we define eloquence to be the art of speaking or 
writing -veil — logic the art of reasoning well — statuary the art of 
forming an exact resemblance of the human shape in marble— painting 
the art of delineating a resemblance of the same shape on canvas by 
means of oil colours, we refer all these species to their genus, and 
mark properties in which they all agree, namely, in being arts, acquir- 
ed by industry and practice, and then we mention the properties 
which distinguish these arts from all other arts, and from one another ; 
eloquence by speaking or writing well; logic by reasoning -well; 
statuary by forming a resemblance of the human shape in marble ; 
tainting by delineating a similar resemblance on canvas. 

5. If, again, we define morality to be the science which teaches 
to be -wise, virtuous, and happy — politics the science which teaches 
to provide for the prosperity of communities, or large bodies of men — 
mathematics the science which teaches to compute quantity — 
pneumatics the science which teaches the properties of spirits, or (he 
doctrine of fluids — optics the science which teaches the theory of 
■vision and colours ; we refer, first, all these branches of knowledge 
to their next genus, science, by which we signify, that they all agree 
in presenting some useful truths to the mind, and that they are sup- 
ported by satisfactory evidence. In the second place, we distinguish 
each science from the rest, and from all other sciences not mention- 
ed, by specifying, as above, the particular truths which it inculcates 
( 'Example 2." Art. 304.) 

Ulus. 4. Definition might certainly be employed to discriminate 
complex Ideas on every occasion, and might supersede both enu- 
meration and description; but in all such cases, the specific differ- 
ence would become either an enumeration, or description. Indeed, there 
is no material difference between these methods of ascertaining 
Ideas, except in the length of the specific difference. An enumera- 
tion, pr a description, cither includes or supposes a genus, to' which the 
Idea explained refers ; and the specific uifference of every defini- 
tion is either an enumeration or a description. 

Example 6. The enumeration formerly advanced, of the Ideas 
expressed by the word honour, (Example, Art. 462.) may easily be 
converted into a definition, of which the specific difference will be- 
come the enumeration itself. " Honour is a disposition which 
prompts us to regard truth in our wards, generosity in our actions, 
candour in our thoughts, and to entertain resentment of insult or 
affront.'" In like manner, we may convert the description of a horse 
into a definition, of which the description -.rill constitute the specific 
difference. We may call him an animal of a cylindrical body, 
long and taper legs, high neck, beautiful head, of gentle temper, 
easy motion, and fit for riding - . 

fllus. 5. It is to be observed, however, that when the specific dif- 
20 



i M L 2 Ji Grammar of Logic. book in- 

ference resolves itself into an enumeration, or a description, it is of 
little consequence to distinguish the genus. On the other hand, 
when it is of consequence to distinguish the genus, the specific difi 
ference seldom consists of more than one or tivo properties. Defini- 
tion is always used in the last case, and enumeration or description 
in the two first. Enumeration is commonly employed to explain 
complex Ideas, of which it is of little consequence to mention the 
genus ; description, to ascertain complex Ideas, the archetypes of which 
are objects of sight ; and definition, to ascertain the abstract Ideas of 
species'. 

Idas. 6. With respect to definition, it is proper farther to ob- 
serve, that we must never attempt to apply it to simple Ideas, because 
they are immediately derived from perception, prompted by the 
objects or operations which suggest them; and no definition or ex- 
plication can render them more distinct or intelligible than they are. 
Even the mathematicians have not always been sufficiently attentive 
to this remark. 

Example 7. The word ratio denotes the Idea of equality or in- 
equality, which results from the comparison of two magnitudes of 
the same kind in point of quantity ; as when one of the magnitudes 
is said to be equal to, greater or less than the other, or to hold to it 
some fixed proportion. {Example 1. Art. 304.) 

Obs. The Idea appears to be simple, at least no words can make 
it plainer than the actual comparison of the magnitudes by which it 
is prompted. Yet some editions of Euclid, which we have seen, 
previous to the one published by Dr. Simpson of Glasgow, present 
the following definition of ratio. " Ratio," we are told, " is a habi- 
tude of magnitudes of the same kind, according to quantity." Ha- 
bitude is a word, which, to say the least of it, is unintelligible as 
applied to ratio ; yet it seems that no plainer word could be found. 
•'Katio," says Simpson, " is the mutual relation of two magnitudes, 
of the same "kind to one another, in respect of quantity ." ( See Illus.. 
3. Art. 304.) 

Example 8. Motion is another simple Idea, on which Aristotle,. 
and the schoolmen after him, have exercised their ingenuity, and 
have produced the following famous specimen of jargon. They 
tell us, that motion is " actus entis in potentia, quatenus in poten- 
tia," the act of being in energy, as far 'as it is in energy. Even later 
philosophers, who define motion by " a passag-e from one place to 
another," do not make the matter much plainer. They only sub- 
stitute one word for another, and it is difficult to decide whether 
motion is better explained by passage, or passage by motion. 

Corol. 2. As, then, complex ideas only are susceptible of explica- 
tion in any of the ways which we have mentioned, if we would pre- 
serve perspicuity, careful attention must be paid, that the same 
meaning, thus settled, shall be invariably retained. The deter- 
mination of this point is simple and easy, and may always be accom- 
plished by substituting the explication in the place of the term 
defined. If this be practicable, and the sense be .preserved, we 
may be confident we have not changed the meaning of the term, 
(Art. 167. Illus.) , 

Scholium. Before we relinquish this branch of the subject, it is 



-hap. ii. Of Propositions. 223 

proper to observe, that although, in compliance with the example 
of all logical writers, we have considered all knowledge as compo- 
sed of Ideas, and feel even disposed to call every impression made 
on the mind, whether derived from an external or an internal arche- 
type, by this name ; yet these impressions have obtained other names 
than Ideas. Thus all impressions, prompted by archetypes, which 
have a. real existence without the mind, are distinguished bj the name 
of perceptions, {Art. 11.3.) All impressions of which the archetype* 
have n-o real existence, but are the creatures of the imagination, as a 
mountain of gold, & sea of milk, are: denominated conceptions. {.lrt 
140. J/ius.) Those impressions only are called lde:is, which have 
been formerly received into the mind, and are again recalled by 
Memory. You will find this explanation useful in reading this 
Grammar as well as some Metaphysical, and even some Critical 
Writers; but we may in general give the name of Idea to every im- 
pression, whether simple or complex, and from whatever source it 
may be derived. 

Note. I am aware that in Chapter VI. Book II. some portion of 
the reasoning advanced in this chapter has been anticipated; bat 
the subject matter of that chapter could not be discussed without 
anticipating some part of this; and as instruction, not pedantry, is 
the object of this Grammar, the logician, properly so called, will 
approve my plan, rather than join in its censure, with that illiberal 
spir't, falsely called criticism, so current among - those, who, unac- 
quainted with the discharge of scholastic duties, would " put old 
.heads on young shoulders-" 



. CHAPTER II. 

OF PROPOSITIONS. 

• 

463. All that we have hitherto advanced in this Book, is 
a mere preparation of the materials of Logic ; and we have 
to apply these materials to the investigation of truth and the 
acquisition of knowledge. 

Illus. The investigation of truth and knowledge consists of two 
operations; one which compares two Ideas, or one pair of Ideas to- 
gether, in order to perceive in them agreement or disagTeement ; 
another which compares two Ideas by the help of one or more in- 
termediate Ideas. The truth or knowledge acquired by the first 
operation is said to result from Judgment, {See Art. 26.) ; the truth 
or knowledge acquired by the second operation is said to result from 
Reasoning. {Art. 294.) 

I. Knoivledge and Truth. 

464. What is knowledge ? and. What is truth ? We 



£24 A Grammar of Logic. book i\. 

are familiarised with these words, and are not disposed to 
suspect any mystery in their meaning. Their meaning, 
however, is not so obvious as is generally supposed ; and it 
is of so much importance in our present inquiry, that we 
cannot proceed without attempting to ascertain it. (Art, 
302. 7. II. Cowl.) 

lllus. 1. Knowledge, then, in a logical sense, is the perception of 
the agreement or disagreement of Ideas with one another; Thutej 
is the perception of the agreement or disagreement of Ideas with 
words. But what, it will again be asked perhaps, is the significa- 
tion of these words, agreement and disagreement ? The signification 
of these words is not always the same, but varies according to the 
nature of the science, the art, or the subject, about which the Idea* 
are employed. {Art. 295. Ilhis.) 

Example 1. In Arithmetic and Mathematics, the only comparison 
of Ideas which can take place relates to the equality or inequality of 
the quantities ; agreement denotes equality, disagreement inequality. 
Thus, when we compare the quantities four and five, we perceive 
that they are unequal, or that the Ideas of them disagree. We per- 
ceive farther, if we add one to four, that these two together form a 
compound quantity, which will be exactly equal to Jive, or that the 
Ideas four and one conjoined will agree with the Ideate- 

Corol. 1. Our knowledge, then, that four is not equal to Jive, but 
that four and one are equal to Jive, is the intuitive perception 
which we have, that the Idea of four disagrees with the Idea of Jive, 
while the Idea of four and one together agrees with the Idea of five. 
(Corol. 1. Art. 293.) 

Example 2. In like manner, from the Ideas which we have of a 
right angle or half a right angle, or from the Ideas which we have of 
an acre, and half an acre, which we know certainly, that the half 
right angle disagrees with, or is a less quantity than the whole right 
angle ; that the half acre disagrees with, or is a less quantity than 
the whole acre: and that if we double the half* right angle and the 
half acre, we shall form two compound quantifies, the Ideas of 
which will agree respectively with those of the whole right angle 
and the whole acre. 

Corol. 2. The perception of the agreement or disagreement of 
Ideas, in all these cases, is the same thing with the knowledge of 
the equality or inequality of the quantities compared. 

Example 3. If, in natural philosophy, we compare body or mat- 
ter with divisibility, we immediately discover that divisibility applies 
to matter, or is a property of it ; in other words, we find that the 
Idea of matter and divisibility agree together, and we know that 
matter is divisible. 

Obs. Agreement, in this case, signifies property or relation, not 
equality, as in the preceding cases. 

Example 4. If we maintain in morals, that a good man is happy ; 
or in politics, that a wise king is a blessing to his people ; or in arts., 
that industry is commonly attended with success, 

Corol, 3. Our knowledge of all these maxims is perfectly tht 



chap. ii. Of Propositions. 225 

same thing 1 with the agreement which we perceive between the 
Ideas of a good man, and happiness ; of a wise king, and the hap- 
piness of his people; of industry, and the acquisition of wealth. 

Illus. 2. (I.) Truth relates to the enunciation of knowledge, and 
is the agreement of Ideas with words. Thus, if we assert that the 
British is a free government, and that the English are more indus- 
trious than any other nation in Europe, we maintain truth, because 
our words actually corespond to accurate Ideas of the facts. If 
again, we say, that the three angles of a triangle are equal to two 
right angles, we express a truth, because it is demonstrable that 
our words and our ideas agree. 

II. Falsehood, on the other hand, is the disagreement of words 
with Ideas ; when it is asserted, that the British government is des- 
potic, or that the three angles of a triangle are equal to three right 
angles. 

III. A mistake is the disagreement of words with Ideas, when 
we suppose that they agree. 

IV. The ignominious falsehood called a lie, is the disagreement 
of words with Ideas, uttered with an intenion to deceive. (See my 
Gramma? of Rhetoric, Ch. V. B. III.) 

Illus. 3. Knowledge, farther, is of two kinds, certain and probable. 
Certain knowledge is that which the mind has when it is perfectly 
satisfied of the agreement or disagreement of Ideas. Probable knovj- 
iedge is that which the mind has when the agreement or disagree- 
ment of Ideas is not so clear as to afford entire satisfaction. The 
degrees of probability are also greater or less, according as the sat- 
isfaction is more or less perfect. (Art. 310. Illus. J 

II. Different Kinds of Propositions. 

465. In judging of the agreement or disagreement of 
ideas, we examine them in pairs, and the words in which 
we express that Judgment, form a sentence called a propo- 
sition. (Illus. Art. 29.) 

Illus. For example, if the Idea of a whole be compared with ''• ^ 
Idea of a part, it is immediately found that they disagree ; and this 
Judgment is expressed by the following proposition : " The whole- 
is greater than any of its parts." But, if the Idea of the whole be 
compared with the Idea of all its parts taken together, it is found that 
they agree ; and this Judgment is expressed by the following pro- 
position : " The whole is equal to all its parts taken together." 
(Illus. 2. Art. 306.) 

46G. If the agreement or disagreement be perceived by 
bare juxta-position of the Ideas, without the intervention of 
any intermediate Idea, the evidence of the proposition is 
said to be intuitive. (Corol. Example 1. Art. 4G4.J But if 
the agreement or disagreement be perceived by means of 
«ome intermediate Idea, or train of Ideas, the mind then 
must proceed by step?. (Art. 298. Obs.) 

20* 



226 A Grammar of Logic. book ev. 

Illus. It must compare the first Idea of the proposition with the 
first intermediate Idea, and pass a judgment on their agreement or 
disagreement. (Art. 464. Illus. 1.) It must next compare the first 
intermediate Idea with the second intermediate Idea, and pass a similar 
judgement. It must proceed, in like manner, through all the inter- 
mediate Ideas, and pass similar judgments, till it comes to compare 
the last intermediate Idea with the latter Idea of the proposition ; 
and from all these intermediate judgments, the conclusive judgment 
is deduced, concerning the agreement or disagreement of the two 
primary Ideas of the proposition. ("Art. 244. Example. J In this 
case, the evidence of the proposition, declarative of the agreement 
or disagreement of the two primary Ideas, is said to be founded on 
reasoning. (~Art. 280. Illus. and Examples. J ■ 

Carol. It hence appeal's, that all knowledge, whether the off- 
spring' of intuition, or the result of reasoning, is denoted by proposi- 
tions, which express the agreement or disagreement of Ideas ; that 
each proposition contains two Ideas, simple or complex, besides the 
assertion of agreement or disagreement; and that the proposition 
which denotes agreement may be called affirmative, that which 
denotes disagreement may be called negative. " That the three 
angles of a. triangle are equal to two right angles," is an affirmative 
proposition ; and " that a part is not equal to the whole," is a negative 
proposition. fArt. 465. Illus. J 

467. The two capital Ideas constitute two parts of a 
Proposition. The first Idea, or sometimes several Ideas 
considered as one, is that of which something is affirmed or 
denied, and is therefore called the subject of the proposition, 
(Jlrt. 159. Illus. 1.) ; the second Idea, or sometimes seve- 
ral Ideas considered as one, is the property, or quality, or 
attribute, which is either affirmed or denied to belong to, or 
to agree with, the first Idea, and is therefore called the 
predicate of the Proposition. (Jlrt. 152. Illus. %,) 

Example. " The three angles of a triangle are equal to two right 
angles," is a proposition, of which the Idea of the three right angles 
forms the suhject, and the Idea of equality to two right angles forms 
the predicate. The affirmation contained in the word are is com- 
monly called by logicians the copula or connective of the Proposi- 
tion. (Illus. Art. 281.) 

468. Propositions, farther, are distinguished by different 
names, according to the clearness of the evidence by which 
the agreement or disagreement of the subject and predicate 
is evinced. (Art. 288.; 

■Musi 1. If the evidence be perfectly satisfactory, the proposition Is 
denominated certain. (Illus. 2. Art. 309.) 

2. If the evidence be not perfectly satisfactory, it is denominated 
probable and it is more or less probable, according as the evidence 
is more or less satisfactory. ( Art. 309. Illus. l.,J 

3. If the evidence for the agreement of the subject and predicate 



CHAiiwi. Of Propositions. 227 

balance the evidence for their disagreement, the proposition is called 
doubtful. 

4. If the evidence be stronger on the side of disagreement, it 
gets the name of improbable ; and the improbability will be the great- 
er, as the evidence of disagreement shall increase. 

5 If the proposition bear an affirmation contrary to Ideas, it ob- 
tains the name of false. (Illus. 3. Art. 278.) 

6. If the affirmation be conformable to Ideas, it is denominated true. 

469. Propositions, also, are divided into universal, par- 
ticular, singular, indefinite, conditional, and relative. [See 
Art. 449,450,451.) 

Illus. 1. An universal proposition is that whose subject com- 
prehends an entire genus or.species. 

Example 1. Thus, "All animals are endowed with life and organ- 
ization," is an universal proposition, because the subject of it in- 
cludes, and the predicate applies to, all living creatures, or to axuhole 
jenus. (Art. 158; Illus.) 

2. " All men are liable to err," is another universal proposition, 
because the subject includes, and the predicate applies to, a -whole 
species, or every individual of the human tace. 

Illus. 2. A particular proposition denotes a limited or partial 
meaning of the subject, or signifies that it does not include an en- 
tire genus or species ; and, in this case, the restricting words, some, 
few, many, &c. usually precede the subject of the proposition. — 
'Art. 159. Illus. J 

Examples. " Few men spend their time to the best advantage," 
— " Many men repent of their folly when it is too late," — are both 
particular propositions, because they include a part only of the hu- 
man species, to which they refer. 

Illus. 3. A singular proposition has an individual for its subject. 

Examples. " Alexander conquered the Persians," — " Caesar was 
assassinated in the senate-house." 

4. An indefinite proposition relates to one individual among" 
many, and is commonly introduced by the indefinite article. 

Examples. " A wise man guides his affairs with discretion ;" " A 
fool is perpetually betraying his ignorance and impudence." 

5. A conditional proposition expresses condition or dependance. 
Example 2. " If people break the laws, they will be punished." 

6. A relative proposition denotes consequence or connection. 
Example 3. "Though he fall, yet will he rise again." But the 

distinctions under Illus. 5 and 6, seem to belong rather to grammar 
than to logic. 

470. Propositions sometimes receive different names, 
according to the kinds of evidence by which they are sup- 
ported. Flie chief of these kinds receive their names from 
the evidence furnished by sensation, consciousness, intui- 
tion, reasoning, and testimony ; and it is of consequence to 
consider propositions with regard to these kinds of evidence, 
because they lead us to the chief sources of human know- 
ledge. 



228 A Grammar of Logic. book iv. 

Illiis. By the external senses we are made acquainted with all 
the objects in nature, which can contribute either to our use or to 
our pleasure ; and of" all the propositions derived from the testimo- 
ny of these senses and feelings, we never, in the intercourse of 
life, presume to entertain the slightest doubt. (Art. 100. Illus. 291.) 
We believe that the city, the house, the man, the horse, the tree, 
the fish, that we behold, really exist, and possess those properties 
or qualities which we perceive to belong to them. ("Art. 120. Illus. 
and Corol.J We never hesitate, whether the propositions con- 
taining the result of our perceptions respecting them are true. — 
(Art. 116. Illus. 1. and 2. J We hesitate as little about proposi- 
tions significant of the reality of our bodily feelings, and of our de- 
sires to gratify them ; such as, that hunger, thirst, pain, are uneasy 
sensations, from which all men Wish to be relieved, and that rest 
after fatigue is a source of pleasure. (Art. 112. Illus. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 
6, 7.J 

Carol. In all these cases, no means of conviction are presented to 
the mind, besides perceptions and feelings. The knowledge, ac- 
cordingly, derived from this source, is often called the dictates of 
sense ; and the sentences that denote this knowledge arc sometimes 
termed sensible propositions. (Art. 290. Illus. 6. Carol.) 

III. Sources of Human Knowledge. 
471. I. Mental feeling, or consciousness, is a copi- 
ous source of knowledge, and furnishes evidence of the 
truth of a numerous class of propositions. By conscious- 
ness we gain an acquaintance with the human constitution, 
particularly with the important operations of the under- 
standing, the imagination, and the passions. (See Chapter 
I. Book II.) 

Illus. 1 . If you affirm, that your imagination is pleased with a fine 
prospect, a beautiful landscape, an elegant exhibition of art, whether 
in writing, painting, sculpture, or architecture ; if you assert, that 
your understanding is delighted with the discovery of truth on all 
subjects, and in all degrees, from the lowest degree of probability 
to the most satisfactory evidence of intuition or demonstration ; if 
you maintain that all your passions were given you for wise and 
good purposes; that all the gratifications of them, within the limits 
prescribed by reason and by virtue, are pleasant, salutary, and com- 
mendable ; and that all irregular gratifications are in themselves not 
only improper, but also painful and destructive ; — you have hardly 
any proof to pi'oduce of the numerous propositions, which express 
the various cases into which these views of the human mind may be 
resolved, except an appeal to the consciousness of the person whom 
you wish to convince. (See Art. 24.) 

2. Should you affirm that your imagination is not captivated with 
a beautiful scene of nature or art; should yon declare that your un- 
derstanding receives no pleasure in the discovery of truth, or that 
the gratification of a regular passion yields you no joy, while the 
agitation of an irregular one fills you with satisfaction ; all I can 



hai'. ti. Of Propositions. 2:29 

urge is, that you mistake your constitution, or that its structure is 
different from the constitution of most other men ; and if you 
persist in maintaining- the consciousness of the truth of what you 
assert, I can only oppose a contrary consciousness on my part. We 
must continue of opposite opinions, for I can advance no arguments 
to persuade you to adopt my notions. 

Carol. 1. From this view of knowledge it will appear, that many 
moral and political propositions, many too which communicate truth, 
in oratory, poetry, criticism, and business, are principally, if not en- 
tirely, supported by consciousness. 

Blus. 3. If you assert, that all men applaud a generous or a grate- 
ful action, and detest an unjust or a cruel one ; that kings arc prone 
to tyrannize over their subjects, or that the people are disposed to 
insult and oppose their rulers; that the beauties of eloquence and 
poetry are felt by all mankind, even the most unpolished and un- 
learned; that the rules of criticism are nothing more than the 
theories of emotions and passions ; that prudence and industry are 
the best and surest means of attaining success in business, while 
folly and idleness are commonly attended with misfortune and con- 
tempt ; you appeal to consciousness concerning the truth of the 
propositions which you advance. 

4. If you gain not immediate assent, all you can do to procure it 
is, to enumerate examples, by which the opinions which you main- 
tain have been verified, and to hold forth these as documents of 
general concurrence, in support of the judgment which you have 
formed. 

Cor'ol. 2. In all these subjects, the most satisfactory evidenc 
the best theories, are founded on the nature of the human cons 
tion. The most sagacious and successful moralists, poiit> 
critics, and observers of human affairs, ground their maxims and 
their observations on the qualities of the mind, of which they are 
conscious themselves, or of which they discover that others are 
conscious. 

472. II. Intuition; another copious source of knowledge, 
communicates to us couviction of the truth of all thosepro- 
positions which are denominated self-evident. Intuition is 
the perception of the agreement or disagreement of two I- 
deas on bare juxla-posirion, without the intervention of any 
third Idea ; and the proposition which expresses our judg- 
ment of that agreement or disagreement is said to be suppor- 
ted by intuitive evidence. (Jlrt. 340. and 341. ) 

Jllus. 1. All the axions of mathematics and arithmetic ; as, that 
i; Two straight lines cannot contain a space," — " Things equal to 
the same thing are equal to one another," — " Two and three arc 
equal to five," — " Two and three are not equal to six ;" — all the 
principles adopted in physical science ; as, that " A body cannot 
be in two places at the same time,"-*' Nothing can produce no- 
thing," — " It is impossible for the same thing to be and not to be;" 
all the maxims relative to identity; as, that "Matter is matter," 
and, " Spirit is spirit," (which by the bye arc truisms) form intui* 
tive propositions. 



£30 j2 Grammar of Logic. book iv. 

2. All certain reasoning, commonly called demonstration, must 
begin with a comparison of two Ideas expressed by an intuitive pro- 
position ; and every proposition, expressive of the agreement of 
any two intermediate Ideas, or of every successive step of the 
demonstration, must be intuitive. 

3. These are the chief cases of intuitive truth. But before we 
leave this topic, we must observe, that some axioms which philoso- 
phers seem to be so fond of holding - forth as the foundations of all 
science, appear so far from being such, that no reasoning is ever 
founded on them, and that they are of no essential use in the course 
of reasoning. This leads us to ask, What is an axiom ? It is evi- 
dently a general proposition, including a number of particular cases, 
and declarative of an intuitive truth. This truth must be as obvious, 
when surveyed in any of the particular cases, as it is in the general 
proposition. If this therefore be true, the axiom can be of little 
use, for its application to the particular case affords no light which 
the mind did not possess before that application. 

Example 1. If you say that two and three are equal to four and oney 
I am perfectly satisfied of the equality of these two quantities, be- 
fore the application of the axiom, that " Things equal to the same 
thing are equal to one another," and before I add, that they are 
both equal to five. The axiom adds no light to my conceptions. 
It merely repeats in general terms, what was expressed more sim- 
ply, if not more intelligibly, in particular terms. 

2. If from two lines, each a mile long, you take away respective- 
ly two half miles, I cannot hesitate a moment, that the remaining- 
half miles are equal to one another, although I had never heard of 
the axiom, " If equals are taken from equals, the remainders will 
be equal." 

3. If from a field of an acre in extent, you take away half an 
acre, and throw it into an adjacent field, I have the most entire con- 
viction that the extent of the first field will be much less than it 
was before the division, without having recourse to the axiom, that 
61 The whole is greater than a part." 

4. If you infer that something must have existed from eternity, 
because something now exists, your conviction is complete, before 
you reflect on, or perhaps know, the scholastic maxim, " Ex nihil.o 
nihil sit," Nothing can produce nothing. 

5. If you are certain that the sun is above the horizon, you con- 
clude with entire confidence, that he is not also below it, although 
you may be unacquainted with the axiom, " Bodies cannot be in 
different places at the same time." 

6. If, having two fines, one half a mile, and the other a quarter 
of a, mile long, you add to each a whole mile, you are perfectly sa- 
tisfied that the new line, composed of the mile and the half mile, is 
longer than that composed of the mile and the quarter. Nor do 
you procure any additional conviction whatever from the applica- 
tion of the axiom, " If equals be added to unequals, the wholes will 
be unequal." » 

Carol. From all these examples it is apparent, that axioms are 
general expressions of truths, obvious in particular cases included 
tender general expressions. In a word, an axiom is applicable when. 



chap. ii. Of Propositions. £31 

we have found, by other means than by its aid, that under it is com- 
prehended the particular case about which we are reasoning 1 . 

473. Reasoning supports an exceedingly numerous 
class of propositions, more numerous than all the other kinds 
of evidence put together. But we do not now discuss its 
nature, nor explain the different degrees of evidence it sup- 
plies. 

Obs. Almost all the propositions of science, most of those of the 
arts, and of business; in a word, those propositions of all cases in 
which the mind receives certain or probable conviction by the ex- 
ercise of its rational faculties, belong to this class, but we have al- 
ready explained the nature of these propositions, under the differ- 
ent kinds of evidence by which they are supported, when we treat- 
ed of the different kinds of evidence in Chapter XI. Book 11. 

474. Testimony was the last source of knowledge, and 
the last species of evidence, which we purposed to explain. 
Testimony founded in the trust which we repose in the ve- 
racity of our fellow creatures, and in their intercourse with 
one another, is of very extensive use. 

Illus. All the credit of history, all the intelligence of places, men, 
and thing's, we cannot in person examine ; all the security society 
can confer on life and property in courts of justice ; all the infor- 
mation of business and social life ; depend entirely on the opinion 
we have, that men will tell truth in their communications to one 
another. ("See Art. 315. and 440. J In many cases, the evidence of 
testimony affords a high degree of satisfaction ; but the degrees of 
satisfaction decrease, till they degenerate into that equivocal state, 
in which probability for and against truth are so equally poised, as 
to leave the mind in a state of suspense. (See Art. ol5. and 439.) 

475. Two causes chiefly induce us to distrust the credi- 
bility of testimony, 1st. suspicion that the relater was not 
fully informed, or, 2dly. that his interest might influence him 
to utter falsehood. The presence of either, or of both these 
causes, is a sufficient reason for hesitation. But, where nei- 
ther takes place, we seem to have no reason to distrust the 
information of testimony. Truth is congenial to the mind 
of man. It is more easy to tell truth than to utter falsehood. 
It is not easy to utter falsehood with success. Some time 
must elapse before the mind can acquire those habits, and 
that composure, which are necessary to secure falsehood from 
the inconsistency and embarrassment which instantly pro- 
claim its baseness and its insincerity. (Art. 442.) 

Illus. Though the evidence of testimony cannot be deemed equi- 
valent to that of demonstration, or to that of the senses, yet in most 
cases it would be ridiculous to indulge the least suspicion. 

Example. That there are such cities as Paris, Rome, or Pekin, 



232 A Grammar of Logic. book iv 

that Alexander conquered a great part of the western quarter of 
Asia, and that Julius Cazsar was killed in the senate-house, are all 
facts of which we cannot entertain the smallest doubt. (Art. 309. 
Illiis. 2. and Example. J 

Carol. The conviction which we have of the truth of such facts is 
called certainty, and the impression made on the mind by the evi- 
dence of testimony in general, is termed belief. The impression 
which results from divine testimony, or the evidence of revelation, 
has obtained the name of faith. 

IV. Of mathematical, moral, political, and prudential, 
Reasoning. 

476. All knowledge is either intuitive, demonstrative, or 
probable. Intuitive knowledge is extremely circumscribed, 
and reasoning therefore begins where intuition ends, and 
consists in finding out the truth of a proposition, or the 
agreement or disagreement of its subject and predicate, by 
the help of intermediate ideas. The intermediate ideas 
form the steps, or links, by which the mind passes from the 
first of the prftnary ideas to the last, or from the subject of 
any proposition to its predicate ; and finally perceives their 
relation. 

Illus. 1. Reasoning assumes different names, according to the 
nature of the steps, or of the links which display the relation be- 
tween the primary ideas. Thus, if the mind attain complete satis- 
faction in every step of its progress, or in the successive compari- 
son of every pair of ideas, it is said to acquire certainty of the agree- 
ment or disagreement of the two primary ideas ; and the reasoning 
is called demonstrative. (See Art. 303, 304, and 305.) 

2. If the agreement of the intermediate ideas with one another, 
and with the extremes, is not perfectly satisfactory, that is, if the 
steps of the reasoning leave the mind under some degree of hesita- 
tion, the reasoning is denominated probable: and the reasoner at- 
tains probability only of the truth of the proposition he investigates. 
Where certainty term.inates, probability commences ; and the lat- 
ter admits numerous degrees, from the highest degree, which 
stands next to certainty, to the lowest, which makes so little im- 
pression, as to permit the mind to remain in a state of suspense. 
(See Art. 306 and 307, ivith their Illustrations.') 

477. If a proposition, supported by probable evidence, 
relate to speculation, the judgment formed concerning it is 
often called opinion ; if it relate to facts, chiefly supported 
by testimony, the judgment is generally called belief. (See 
Art. 278. with all its Illustrations and Examples.) 

Illus. 1. In explaining, therefore, the branch of logic now before 
us, all we have to do, is, to reduce to practice frst, the analysis we 
have given of demonstrative reasoning; (Art. 303.) ; secondly, that 



chap. n. Of Propositions. 23 S 

of probable reasoning' (Art. 306.); ami point out the sciences and 
arts in which they are respectively employed. 

2. All reasoning is either of the one kind or the other; and in 
every science or art, in which conviction does not come up to cer« 
tainty, we must be content with probability. (Art. 308.) 

478. Mathematics and Arithmetic are the only sciences 
susceptible of demonstrative proof, which is so satisfactory 
and cogent as to exclude even the supposition of falsehood. 
(Art. 304.J Other sciences, in their principles, may per- 
haps furnish proofs nearly, if not completely demonstrative; 
but in the detail they exhibit nothing better than probability. 
The high evidence of the science of quantity, independent 
of the importance of the truths which it teaches, renders 
them good exemplifications of the rules of logic : and one 
of the best methods of becoming a good reasoner, is, to be 
familiar with the processes of investigation which they sup- 
ply. (See the Illustrations and Examples to Jlrt. S04.J 

Jllus. To reduce to practice demonstrative reasoning, we shall 
now analyze some propositions of the Elements of Euclid. Reason- 
ing is a successive comparison of every pair of ideas, from the first 
to the last, or from the idea which forms the subject of the proposi- 
tion, to the one which forms the predicate ; and in demonstration 
every comparison is intuitively certain. When these ideas are 
found to agree, the demonstration is finished, and the reasoning in 
concluded. (Art. 298.) 

Example 1. Suppose we begin with the first proposition of the 
first book of the Elements, which proposes " To describe an equi- 
lateral triangle on a given straight line." Let us pass over the ope- 
rations by which the triangle in the figure is described, because we 
mean to analyze only the reasoning of the proposition. 

Argument. After the figure has been constructed on the given line, 
the proposition to be proved is, that " The triangle so constructed 
is equilateral, or has all its sides equal." The subject of the propo- 
sition, or the Jirst idea of it, is, that of the triangle described; the 
predicate of the proposition, or the second idea of it, is, that of tlie 
equality of the sides of the triangle. Now, it is not intuitively certain 
that the three sides are all equal to one another ; therefore some 
.intermediate ideas must be placed between the subject and the pre- 
dicate of the proposition, to shew their agreement. The process 
consists of two steps, that is to say, one intermediate idea is necessary 
to prove the proposition. The first step is the comparison of the 
base A B* with one of the sides A C ; and of their equality we have 
intuitive certainty, because, by the description of the figure, they 
are radii of the same circle. The second step is the comparison of 
the same side A 15, with the other side B G ; and of their equality, 
also, we have intuitive certainty, as they are both semi-diameters of 
another circle of the same radius with the former. This step finish- 

* Sec the Figure in Simson's Euclid. 
51 



^34 A Grammar of Logic. book iv 

es the demonstration. The base is found to agree with both the 
sides ; and the triangle must be equilateral, because all the sides 
are equal; the subject and predicate of the proposition are found 
exactly to agree. 

Example 2. In the forty-seventh proposition of the first book of 
the Elements, the truth to be established is, " That in a right angled 
triangle, the square of the side opposite to the right angle is equal 
in quantity to the sum of the squares of the other two sides." The 
square opposite to the right angle is the subject, the sum of the two 
other squares is the predicate, and the idea of the extent of the first 
square is to be compared with the idea of the sum of the other two 
squares. 

Argument I. The first step is to prove, that G A C* is one straight 
line, and H AjB another, in order to lay a foundation for demonstra- 
ting that the triangle FBC is equal to half the square FA, and the 
triangle A B D equal to half the parallelogram B L. 

II. The next step is to prove the triangle ABD equal to the 
triangle FBC. 

HI. The third step is to prove the triangle ABB equal to half 
the parallelogram B L, and the triangle FBC equal to half the 
square F A ; and hence to infer the equality of the square F A to 
the parallelogram B L. 

IV. Three similar steps are necessary to find the square A K 
equal to the parallelogram C L ; and hence to infer the equality of 
the whole square B E to the two squares F A and A K, which es- 
tablishes the agreement of the subject and predicate of the proposi- 
tion ; or that the square of the side opposite to the right angle, is equal 
to the squares of the tivo other sides. 

Corol. To complete this process, then, there are necessary these 
six capital steps, and each of these includes one or more subordinate 
steps, so that the sum of the subordinate steps amounts to no fewer 
than twelve ; and if these are added to the six capital ones, it ap- 
pears, that to prove this proposition, there are requisite eighteen 
intermediate ideas. The mind has a clear and distinct perception of 
the agreement of every pair of ideas ; and the effect is proportion- 
al to the cause, for the mind obtains the most complete certainty 
of the truth of the proposition. 

479. All reasoning has this in common with demonstra- 
tion, that the agreement or disagreement of the primary 
ideas must be proved by intermediate ideas; the difference 
is, that the agreement of the intermediate ideas with one 
another, and with their primary ideas, amounts not to cer- 
tainty ; it is no more than probable. 

Corol. From this view it will appear, that the far greater part of 
knowledge, and even the most interesting and important part, that, 
which concerns morality, politics, the useful arts, and business, is 
not supported by better evidence than probability. {See Art. 
211.) The probability, however, in many cases is highly convinc- 

* See the Figure, 



-hap. ii. Of Propositions. 235 

ing, approaches very near to certainty, and affords good ground for 
acting upon it with perfect confidence and satisfaction. (See Coral. 
Art. 312.) 

480. That all men should revere their Maker, and per- 
form every duty which they conceive will be acceptable to 
him ; that they should do good to their fellow -creatures, and 
not wantonly hurt or injure them ; that they should live in 
temperance and moderation, in order to insure the highest 
happiness their constitutions can enjoy; are all conclusions, 
the justness of which no one can doubt, any more, perhaps, 
than he can doubt that two and three make five ; or that the 
three angles of a triangle are equal to two right angles. 

Argument. The agreement of the idea which we have of man, 
with those ideas which we have of his Creator, and of his fellow 
creatures, infers these duties with an evidence which nearly ap- 
proaches demonstration. But when we descend to investigate the 
nature of particular acts of regard to God, or of intercourse with 
our fellow creatures, our scale applies inaccurately ; the ag-reemenl 
or disag'reement of ideas is not perfectly clear; and we are not cer- 
tain (at least we do not agree) where regard to the Almig-hty ter- 
minates, and disregard begins; where justice or charity ceases, and 
injustice or severity commences. 

Corol. Till this can be done, we have no reason to expect that 
the precepts of morality shall be supported by the evidence of de- 
monstration. (See Art. 353. Carol. 1 and2.) 

481. The same species of reasoning applies to the evi- 
dence of other sciences, of arts, and of business. In them 
all, the mind discovers only moral certainty, that is, differ- 
ent degrees of probable evidence, (Art. 354.,) according as 
the agreement of ideas is more or less clear and satisfactory. 

JE.vumpte 1. Suppose some reasoning were employed to recom- 
mend the love of God, or to prove this proposition — " man ought to 
love God." The agreement of ideas in moral reasoning, we have 
formerly observed, relates to propriety, fitness, reasonableness. (Art. 
480.) The meaning, then, of the proposition will be, whether the 
idea we have of such an imperfect dependent creature as man, 
agrees with the idea of his exerting love toward the great, wise, and 
good Being who made the universe, or whether it' be fit, proper, 
and right that man should love God ? (See Art. 352. Ilhis. 1, 2, 3.) 

Argument 1. To prove this proposition, a Theologian might 
employ several intermediate ideas ; he might first shew that the 
Almighty is the most amiable Being in the universe, and that he 
possesses all those attributes of goodness, wisdom, and power, most 
calculated to excite attachment. The amiableness of God would 
thus involve a large collection of particulars, of subordinate ideas, 
which together would constitute what, in the science of morals, is 
denominated an argument. 

H. The Theologian might prove, secondly, that the lore of Got! 



i23S A Grammar of Logic. book if. 

is the surest means of happiness to ourselves. It will communicate 
self-approbation, confidence in the wisdom of Providence, and the 
administration of human affairs ; and will extirpate those anxieties 
and fears which haunt and distract weak and vicious men. The 
illustration of these topics also, would include a great number of 
subordinate ideas, and would constitute another argument for the . 
love of God. 

III. The Theologian might farther insist that love to God is rea- 
sonable and proper, in return for the numerous instances of kind- 
ness, mercy, and love, which the Deity daily exerts towards us, 
The illustration of these instances, likewise, would comprehend 
many subordinate ideas, and would furnish a third argument in 
support of the proposition. {See Art. 294. Obs. and Example.) 

Example 2. Suppose again, it were to be inferred from future 
punishment that " Men must be free agents," or that " The idea of 
future punishment agrees with that of self-determination, or the 
freedom of action." The following train of intermediate ideas will 
shew that agTeement. 

Argument I. Future punishment must be inflicted by the Almighty ; 
the Almighty can inflict no punishment that is not just ; the punish- 
ed of course must be guilty : they could, then, have done otherwise, 
and consequently must be free agents. 

II. Thistrain of ideas, more shortly expressed, will stand thus: 
Future punishment — God the punisher — punishment just — punish- 
ed guilty — could have done otherwise — self-determination. 

CoroL In this piece of reasoning there are four intermediate 
ideas, and five comparisons are made to discover the agreement with 
the extremes, and with one another. The agreement between the 
adjacent ideas in every step, appears with a high degree of convic- 
tion ; and were each of the ideas illustrated at some length, accord- 
ing to the common mode of reasoning on moral topics, the whole 
wou'd form an elegant deduction, and would communicate a very 
lively impression. 

Example 3. Let us suppose farther, that the following political 
proposition were proposed to be proved; and let us consider the 
nature of the reasoning: requisite to establish it. " Industry is the 
capital source of national prosperity." The ideas, or terms, as the 
logicians express themselves, to be compared, are those of industry 
and national prosperity. 

Argument I. We must here remark, that agreement of ideas in 
politics refers, not to reasonableness and fitness, as in morals, but to 
public utility, or national happiness. The meaning - , then, of the 
proposition is this, that industry makes a nation prosperous, by ex- 
tending its opulence, and exalting its reputation, in support of which 
we thus argue. 

1. Industry increases the population of a country, by providing 
subsistence for additional inhabitants. 

2. An increase of inhabitants, increases commerce and manufac- 
tures. 

3. Commerce and manufactures procure riches from foreign na- 
tions of less industry. 

4. These riches prompt a spirit of enterprise still further to ex- 



.hap. n. Of Propositions. 237 

tend commerce and manufactures. Hence new nerves to domestic 
•industry. 

5. The comforts, and many of the luxuries of life, are provided 
for all the members of the community. 

6. Ample security is found for the continuance of these advanta- 
ges by the national reputation which they procure, and the large 
resources of money and of men that they supply to maintain that 
reputation. 

II. But national prosperity consists in these things which we have 
enumerated ; — a wealth) 7 , sober, industrious, and numerous people, 
respectable at home, and formidable abroad. Each of the steps 
might have been illustrated at considerable length, and might have 
formed a very pleasant and satisfactory discussion. 

III. They may also be condensed into more narrow bounds, and 
may form the following series ready for the nearest comparison : — 
National industry — increase of people — improvements in commerce 
and manufactures — national riches — national enterprise — people at 
home, numerous and happy, respectable and formidable abroad — 
national prosperity. 

Corol. This series presents five intermediate ideas; and six com- 
parisons are requisite to afford conviction of the agreement of the 
first idea with the last, or of the subject of the proposition with its 
predicate. 

482. In the Examples which we have advanced from Mo- 
rals and Politics, the Evidence, you will observe, though 
"highly satisfactory, is still no more than probable ? and does 
not appear with that commanding tone which compels assent. 
Sceptical men may find reason to suspend their assent, and 
disputatious men may raise difficulties, which we must ad- 
mit are not destitute of foundation. {Art. 439. and 440.) 

Illusi Accordingly, against every step of the preceding political 
series, some doubt may be started. It may be argued, I. that in- 
dustry is not always attended with an increase of people; it may 
even sometimes produce the contrary effect ; it may induce the 
people to emigrate to other countries, where their labour will be 
better rewarded than at home. 11. It may be urg-ed also that the 
most warlike and powerful nations are often the poorest and the 
most hardy, while arts and industry only supply riches to tempt 
such adventurers to seize both the country and its wealth. III. It 
may besides be contended, that arts and industry enervate man- 
kind, multiply their wants and vices, and render a people misera- 
ble in the midst of every provision for happiness ; that they repress 
all the great and splendid, and, consequently, many of the most 
pleasant exertions of the mind. 

Corol. It is the possibility of constructions of this sort, in all pro- 
bable investigations, which diminishes their evidence, and renders 
the conviction which they produce inferior to demonstration. 

483. But how susceptible soever of controversy these 
specimens of Reasoning may be, they are much more satis- 

21 * 



238 A Grammar of Logic. book it,. 

factory than are many of the conjectural estimations on 
which mankind every day act in some of the most important 
concerns of life. 

Illus. Thus, many of the engagements which we form, and every 
new line of life on which we enter, involve numerous considera- 
tions to determine our conduct, — considerations which are scarcely 
supported by better evidence than speculation. The wisdom of 
the prudent man is seldom more meritorious than the sagacity which 
leads him to conjecture with most probability, or which teaches 
him to proceed with recollection and attention to surrounding ob- 
jects, so as" to avail himself of passing events. 

484. In our Reasonings of Anticipation, we proceed 
chiefly by Analogy. We suppose that the future will re- 
semble the past. (Art. 315. Illus. 1. 2.) In the negociations 
of business, and in forecasting the probable consequences of 
any plan of conduct, we must conclude, that similar causes 
will produce similar effects; that men will act in time to 
come as they have done in time past ; and that the course 
of nature will proceed by the established rules which have 
directed it since the world began. 

Illus. We argue from the characters, the opinions, the interests* 
the passions, the weaknesses, and the caprices of men ; and we en- 
deavour to form systems of conduct for them, derived from the sit- 
uations which they occupy. (Art. 349.) The trains of reasoning 
which we adopt in such cases, are in a great measure hypothetical ; 
and the probability of the evidence frequently is of the lowest kind. 
Conjectures often so counterbalance one another, as to leave the 
mind in a state of total suspense. (Art. 317. Illus. Example and Co- 
~ol.) 

V. Different Species of Reasoning. 

485. In the different methods, in common use, of distri- 
buting or arranging Ideas in different processes of reasoning 4 
the Reasoning is said to be either direct or indirect. {Art. 
305. Illus. 1, 2. and Example.) In direct Reasoning, we 
prove a proposition in the manner which we have now ex- 
plained, by finding-intermediate Ideas that show the agree- 
ment of the terms of which it consists. In indirect Rea- 
soning, we do not trace the agreement of the terms of a 
proposition ; it takes place only when the predicate of a 
proposition admits an alternative, and when either the pre- 
dicate or the alternative must be true, or must agree with 
the subject of the proposition, because they exhaust every 
ease that can exist. We prove that the alternative cannot 
he true ; and therefore the predicate must be true. 



tyHAP. ir. Of Propositions. 28<) 

Example 1. Euclid lays down this proposition, " That a straight 
line drawn at right angles from the extremity of a diameter, falls 
without the circle." 

Argument. No intermediate idea, it seems, occurred, by which 
he could deduce the proof directly from the nature of the circle, 01 
of the perpendicular, or the extremity of the diameter. He pro- 
ceeds, therefore, by indirect demonstration, and introduces an alter- 
native. The perpendicular must fall either -without the circle, or 
■within it. No third supposition can be made, relative to the man- 
ner of its falling ; for it cannot fall upon the circumference of the 
circle, except in one point. He proves that the alternative cannot 
be true, or that the perpendicular cannot fall within the circle. — 
The predicate, then, must be true, that the perpendicular falls -with- 
out the circle. 

Example 2. Again, " The moon is either an opaque or a transpa- 
rent body." 

Argument. It is not transparent, because, if it were, it would 
transmit the rays of the sun when it comes between the sun and the 
earth ; and no eclipse of the sun could happen from the interven- 
tion of it between the sun and the earth : But this conclusion is con- 
trary to truth, for such eclipse does happen. The alternative, there- 
fore, that the moon is a transparent body, must be false, and con- 
sequently the predicate must be true, that the moon is an opaque bo- 
dy. The refutation of the alternative is always pursued, till it ter- 
minates in some contradiction, falsehood, or absurdity ; and on this 
account indirect Reasoning is, by the Logicians, sometimes called 
" Reductio ad absurdum." {Art. 305. Illus. 1.) 

486. It has often been disputed, whether indirect Rea- 
soning be less elegant and less satisfactory than direct Rea- 
soning; but we observe that both convey truth with perfect 
evidence ; ami when a reasoner "has got possession of an 
indirect proof, he will not trouble himself much in searching 
for a direct one. It is, however, generally supposed, that 
Mathematicians never employ the former but in cases of ne- 
cessity, and when they cannot have recourse to the latter. 

Obs. 1. The great number of beautiful specimens of demonstra- 
tion, of which their science is susceptible, may render them nice 
or delicate even about the elegance and manner of their reasonings ; 
but on other subjects, and in other sciences, when the mind is glad 
to reach truth on any terms, it will be satisfied with good indirect 
proof. It may, perhaps, be doubted, whether the charge of inele- 
gance is not the offspring of squeamishness and caprice, rather than 
ef just taste. 

2. An indirect train of ideas is often long, but may be conjoined 
with as much clearness and propriety as a direct train. The step 
from the falsehood of the alternative to the truth of the predicate, is 
perfectly satisfactory, if not elegant; and it may be added, that in- 
direct reasoning imparts variety to the nature of the proof. 

487» Reasonings farther, is said to proceed either a pri- 



S40 A Grammar of Logic. book iv. 

ori, or a posteriori ; a distinction which relates entirely to 
cause and effect. 

1. In reasoning a priori, we begin with the cause, and infer from it 
the reality or the species of the effect. 

II. In reasoning a posteriori, we reverse this progress ; we begin 
with the effect, and reason backward from it to the establishment of- 
the existence and the qualities of the cause. 

VI. Examples of Reasoning a Priori. 

488. Argument a priori proves or disproves the fact from 
the law, or the effect from the cause. Every argument a 
priori may be reduced to a perfect syllogism, consisting of 
three propositions : of which 

One announces the law either positively or negatively, 
Another compares the law with the fact to be proved ; 

and 

The third affirms or denies the fact, from its conformity 

"with, or its opposition to the law. 

Example 1. If you maintain, that the soul of man is a thinking* 
principle, and therefore that it is immaterial, because matter cannot 
think ; and hence again infer, that it is immortal, because what is 
immaterial cannot die or be destroyed; you reason a priori ,• you 
deduce the effect from its cause, and prove the soul to be immortal 
from the nature of its constitution. („?ri. 99. Corol. 1, 2, 3.) 

2. If, again, you argue, that the people who live fifteen degrees 
farther east than us, will have their day beginning and ending an 
hour sooner than ours ; that navigators who have sailed fifteen de- 
grees eastward will, of course, have lost an hour of our day, and will 
have gained an hour from the day of the people of that longitude ; 
that these navigators will experience a similar loss, and gain in 
point of time, for every fifteen degrees eastward on the face of the 
globe ; and that, as they. must pass through four and twenty times 
fifteen degrees in sailing round the globe, so, on returning home, 
they will calculate time a day sooner than their countrymen, be- 
cause they have lost twenty -four hours of the time of their country- 
men, in their voyage. In this process, you reason a priori, because 
you deduce a curious fact, verified by experience from the figure 
of the earth, round which the navigation is performed. 

VII. Example of Reasoning a Posteriori. 

489. In reasoning a posteriori, we argue from the Effect 
to the Cause, and conclude from the former the nature or 
existence of the latter. In other words, arguments a poste- 
riori prove, or disprove the rule, from the enumeration of 
particulars. Every argument a posteriori may be reduced 
to a syllogism, consisting of two propositions: 

One is Induction, or enumeration of facts : 



. iu Of Propositions. 241 

The other affirms or denies the law from the concurrence, 
or want of concurrence, in the particulars brought to estab- 
lish it. 

Example 1. From the wisdom, power, and goodness, discernible 
in all the works of nature, you infer, that there must be some wise, 
benevolent, and omnipotent cause, from which these effects pro- 
ceed. You cannot doubt of the effects, because you experience 
them every moment of your existence ; you can as little doubt that 
these effects must proceed from some cause, and that the cause 
must possess the qualities conspicuous in the effects. 

2. Again, you observe, that the shadow of the earth projected on 
the face of the moon in a lunar eclipse, is of a circular form ; and 
from this effect you justly infer, that the figure of the earth is round, 
because this figure only could produce such a shadow. 

490. In this volume there are numerous Specimens of 
both these methods of Reasoning; bat the pupil will find 
that Reasonings a priori are much circumscribed, because 
causes are seldom so well known as their effects. 

491. From effects, chiefly, we ascend to the knowledge of 
causes ; and on this account reasoning a posteriori is much 
more frequent. It is much employed in inquiries into na- 
ture; it is the ground-Work of the famous method of induc- 
tion for investigating natural knowledge, recommended in 
the "Novum Organunv* of Lord Bacon; and it is .of fre- 
quent use in politics and morals. 

Jllus. 1. The best way to obtain an acquaintance, both with the 
Author of nature, and with the secondary causes which produce the 
effeets we daily behold, is to survey with patience the effects 
themselves, because we have no means of information concerning 
the causes, except '.n this channel. 

2. In like manner, to understand the duties a man owes to his 
country, or to his neighbour, we must scrutinize mVconstil ion, 
what forms the happiness of such a being, both as a member of so- 
fciety, and amoral agent; what are his mental faculties, and his 
bodily powers; his attachments, and antipathies; his g-ratifications, 
and his wants. la all these inquiries we begin from the effect, and 
ascend to the cause, or we reason a posteriori. 

VIII. Analytic and Synthetic Reasoning. 

492. The last distinction of Reasoning, divides it into 
analytic and synthetic,, and refers chiefly to mathemati- 
cal Reasonings. 

I. Analysis forms an elegant method of investigating the legiti- 
macy of demonstrations. 

II. Synthesis puts together the different steps after investiga- 
tion, so as to make out a proof. 

III. Analysis begins with the predicate of a proposition, and 
ascends from it to the subject, (Art. 493. mid Example.) 



242 Jl Grammar of Logic. book i-v. 

IV. Synthesis takes the opposite course, begins with the subject, 
and descends from it to the predicate, or it is the same thing' with 
direct reasoning. {Art. 478. Example 1 and 2.) 

Illus. 1. The ancients carried on analysis by means of mathemati- 
cal figures; algebra is the great instrument of modern analysis. 
Many examples of the ancient analysis are to be found in Apollo- 
nius Pergreus, De Sectione Itationis. Every treatise of algebra, but 
particularly that of Sir Isaac Newton, will furnish specimens of the 
modern analysis by letters or symbols. 

2. All the Demonstrations of the Elements of Euclid exhibit ex- 
amples of synthesis : and we need not produce any of them. 

IX. Example of Analytic Reasoning. 

493. The purpose of the Analysis is to try the legitimacy 
of an investigation, or to discover whether the intermediate 
ideas, by which a mathematician suspects a demonstration 
may be accomplished, are sufficient for that purpose. He 
begins with supposing, that the ideas are good media for 
demonstrating the proposition in question, and constructs 
his figure on that hypothesis. He supposes, farther, the thing 
done that the problem requires, or the truth established which 
a theorem proposes to prove. He sets out from the proposi- 
tion, and reasons backward to the beginning of it ; and if he 
encounter no contradiction, or terminate in no absurdity, 
he concludes the media to be pertinent and legitimate ; if 
he terminate in an absurdity or contradiction, he infers, that 
the media are improper, and that the synthetical demonstra- 
tion will be inconclusive. 

Example. Were it required to analyze the first proposition of the 
first book of the Elements of End. d, which proposes to describe an 
equiliteral triangle. on a given straight line, we would describe a 
triangle on the given line, and would suppose it equilateral. We 
would reason thus : 

I. If the triangle be equilateral, then the making one end of the 
base a centre, and describing a circle with the length of that base 
as a radius, the circle will pass through the other extremity of the 
base, and the extremity of one of the sides ; so that the base and 
one of the sides must becone radii of the same circle. 

II. If another circle be described from rhe other end of the base, 
with the same base taken as a radius, this circle will pass through 
the other extremities of the base and of the other side. The two 
circles, therefore, are equal, because their radii are so. This step 
finishes the analysis, and proves the media to belegitimate,because 
the reasoning backward has reached its principle, the equality of 
the two circles, from which the sjmthesis begins, or from which the 
truth of the proposition, that the triangle is equilateral, is demon- 
strated. 

494, Logicians mention some other distinctions of Rf» 



»hap. m. Of Sophistry. 24 ., 

soning, which we shall briefly define, because they some 
times occur m conversation, but more frequently in books 

•t 9 ^ 'When we argue from principles, or opinions, ad- 
mitted by the person with whom we reason, whether they 
be true or not m themselves, we are said to employ an ar- 
gumenlum ad hominem. J 

496. When we urge in our defence some eminent author- 
ity, which an antagonist is ashamed to oppose, we are said 
to employ an argumentum ad verecundiam. 

497. When we perplex or puzzle an adversary, we offer 
what is called argumentum ad ignorantiam. 



CHAPTER III. 

OF SOPHISTRV. 

498. From Truth nothing can really follow but what is 
true: whensoever, therefore, we find a false conclusion 
drawn trom premises which seem to be true, there must be 
some tault in the deduction or inference; or else one of the 
premises is not true in the sense in which it is used in tiiat 
argument. 

When an argument carries the face of truth with it, and 
yet eads us into mistake, it is a sophism ; and there is no 
need of a particular description of these fallacious arguments 
hat we may, with more ease and readiness, detect and solve 
tnem. 

499. Logicians have divided sophistry also into differ- 
ent kinds; the most remarkable of which it will be proper 
to specify, because they are very common. 

500. The first is called Ignoratio Elenchi, and con- 
sists in mistaking or misrepresenting the state of the ques- 
tion under discussion. This species occurs in most contro- 
versies, but particularly in political ones, which now chiefly 
engage men of learning and ability. Religious and uhiloso- 
phical controversies have, fortunately for the peace of soci- 
ety, almost totally disappeared. 

hJ^E ,T he ? oment a writer engages in controversy, in spite of all 
the attention he can maintain, partialities lay hold of his mind • his 
passions warp and mislead h.s understanding. (SeeJri W am all 
>ts Illustrates.) He reads the performances^ hisantagonfs't " der 
themfluence of dispositions which induce him to mistake their 



244 A Grammar- of Logic. book to 

meaning 1 . (Art. 449, and all its Illustrations.) He discovers malevo- 
lent ov insidious designs, which are perceptible by nobody bat him- 
self; and he imputes principles and views to his opponent, which 
the latter never entertained nor disavowed. (Art. 435, audits Illus- 
trations.) He introduces principles and views of his own, and he 
reasons and speculates about them as if they were admitted by the 
opposite party;. (Sec Art. 437, and all its Illustrations.) 

501. Another species of Sophistry is called petitio prist - 
cipii, (a supposition of what is not granted,) and consists 
in assuming as true the proposition under debate. 

Elus. Few men are so void of discernment, or so destitute of de- 
licacy and regard to truth, as confidently to maintain what they have 
not attempted to prove, and hence this species of sophistry is not 
frequent in business. In philosophical and political investigations, 
in which, on account of the intricacy or uncertainty of the subjects, 
disputants take more liberty of obtruding- their opinions upon their 
antagonists, or presume more readily that assertion may be admitted 
for a proof, the sophistly petitio pnncipii, or " begging the ques- 
tion," is exceedingly frequent. 

503. The Peripatetics, by the following manifest petitio 
principii, pretend to prove, that the centre of the earth is 
the centre of the universe. 

Sophism. " All bodies must move towards the centre of the uni- 
verse, but we find from experience, that all bodies move towards 
the centre of the earth ; therefore the centre of the earth is the 
centre of the universe." 

Analysis. This argument proves nothing; for, although we allow- 
that all bodies with which we are acquainted, move towards the 
centre of the earth, it does not thence follow - that all bodies in the 
universe move towards the centre of the earth. The truth is, that 
a body near the surface of the earth, moves towards it only by the 
difference of attraction exerted by the earth above the other great 
bodies in nature ; that all the bodies in the solar system are attract- 
ed towards a point near the surface of the sun ; and that all the 
bodies of our solar system, and perhaps of all the systems of the 
universe, are attracted towards some other point, which is the cen- 
tre of the whole, but not surely the centre of the earth. 

503. Sophistry frequently appears in arguing from one 
particular to another, or inferring general conclusions from 
particular cases. The logicians call this species a "dicto 
secundum quid, ad dictum simpliciter," as, That which is 
bought in the shambles is eaten for dinner ; raw meat is 
bought in the shambles ; therefore raw meat is eaten for din- 
ner. The argument of the Epicureans of old, to prove the 
gods of human shape, will pertinently illustrate this sort ol 
.sophistry. 

Example 1. They maintained that the human form was the most 
beautiful of all those with winch men were acquainted, or of which 



chap* HI. Of Sophistry. 245 

they had any conception, but the most beautiful form is always 
supposed to belong to the gods, the best of beings in the universe ; 
it was, therefore, reasonable to conclude, that they were endued 
with the human form. 

Analysis. No connection subsists between the nature of man and 
that of the gods, to induce us to believe the gods must possess the 
shape of men ; and we cannot infer, because the figure of man is 
the most beautiful with which we are acquafnted, that therefore 
the form of the gods, admitting them to have some form, cannot 
be more beautiful than the human. The argument, that the form 
of a pine-apple, being the most beautiful, perhaps, of vegetable 
forms, is also the form of the gods, would be equally conclusive, 
being a rare inference from one particular to another, between 
which there is no relation ; or, in other words, between particulars 
which have nothing in common, whence such an inference can 
possibly be deduced. 

Example 2. Should we, again, conclude, from the foolish or ini- 
quitous behaviour of some individuals, of a numerous order of men, 
that all the order are fools or rogues. 

3. Or, from the unwholesomeness or bad taste of some sort of 
animal and vegetable food, that all sorts are unwholesome or un- 
pleasant. 

4. Or, because many bad kings and magistrates have been in the 
world, that all kings and magistrates are bad men ; in each of these 
cases you would argue from premises insufficient to support your 
inference, because you extend the latter much farther than the for- 
mer, and suppose that there are no exceptions, where there may 
be thousands of exceptions. 

504. This illegitimate and illiberal logic frequently ap- 
pears in the intercourse of society, when all the connections, 
the family, the friends, and the order of an impudent or a 
criminal person are branded with the improprieties and the 
errors of which he only has been guilty ; while they enter- 
tain, perhaps, a more lively disapprobation of his conduct 
than those who load them with reproach. 

Illus. 1. Should you boldly declare that all the people of England 
in the time of Charles I. were murderers because & junto of bloody- 
minded men put him to death ; that all the people of France were 
regicides because a few voted for the death of Louis XVI. ; that all 
the people of the United States of America were unprincipled 
tyrants and assassins, because General Jackson put Arbuthnot and 
Ambbisteh, British subjects to death on false accusations and prin- 
ciples of policy, which the laws of nations do not recognize ; — you 
would display the spirit we have now in view. 

2. It is, indeed, difficult to decide whether such a spirit is more 
characteristic of cruelty, or want of candour. It is cruel, for it dis- 
plays a strong disposition to criminate the innocent ; and to pour 
into delicate and honourable minds that pungent vexation which re- 
sults from the loss of reputation, under a consciousness of having 
done nothing to deserve such a misfortune r It is void of candour ; 

22 



246 Ji Grammar of Logic. book xv, 

because no intercourse has subsisted between the culprit and the 
party accused, which can.authorise any inference of blame from the 
one to the other ; and it is not a little uncandid to deduce an in- 
ference, without premises, or contrary to those laid down. 

505. Numerous errors and much false reasoning result 
from forming hypotheses, to account for the phenomena of 
nature, or the actions of men, without endeavouring to in- 
vestigate the true causes of these phenomena, and the mo- 
tives of those actions from the effects which they produce. 
This species of sophistry the logicians call Causam assig- 
nare quae causa non est. To assign that as a cause which 
is not the cause : or as Dr. Watts has it, non causa pro 
causa — or the assignation of a false cause. Philosophers 
and speculative politicians have been most prone to indulge 
in this kind of ratiocination, and many curious examples of 
it are to be found in physical books, and in real life. (See 
Chap. III. Book I.) 

Example 1. All the heavenly bodies, says Aristotle, in his Physics^ 
must move in circles, because a circle is the most perfect of all figures? 
and because bodies moving in such fgures meet with least resistance,. 
The great philosopher does not tell us how he knew that the circle 
is the most perfect of all figures, and that bodies moving in circles 
meet with least resistance. Both these reasons are mere supposi- 
tions, contrary to truth, as well as the opinion that the heavenly bo- 
dies move in circles, which, by a little observation, he might have 
found to be erroneous. 

2. To support the hypothesis he had adopted, concerning the 
eternity and perfection of the world, the same philosopher offers 
the following singular ratiocination. " The world is a. perfect pro- 
duction, because it is composed of bodies; and bodies are perfect 
magnitudes, because they consist of three dimensions, length, breadth, 
and thickness, and cannot admit of more. Lines are not perfect 
magnitudes, because they have length only, which may easily be 
made to move into a surface. Surfaces are not perfect magnitudes^ 
because they have only length and breadth, which may easily be 
made to move into a solid." . Now all this reasoning is mere conjec- 
ture, relating to the qualities only of magnitudes, and not in the 
least to their merits. 

3. The occidt qualities of the same author, and his followers, are 
not more satisfactory sources of natural knowledge. The pulse 
beats — the loadstone points to the pole — tartar is emetic — poppy 
produces sleep ; because there k a beating quality in the pulse, an . 
attractive quality in the loadstone, an emetic quality in tartar, and a 
soporific quality in poppy. Such philosophizing resembles the 
play of children, or the ridicule of empyrics, rather than the serious 
investigation of grave inquirers after truth, and it furnishes an hu- 
miliating picture of the progress of natural philosophy among the 
ancients, (See Art, 73. and Corol.) 



chap. in. Of Sophistry. 24? 

506. The moderns as well as the ancients fall often into 
this fallacy, when they positively assign the reasons of na- 
tural appearances, without sufficient experiments to prove 
them. 

Illus. 1. Jtstrologers are overrun with this species of fallacy, and 
they cheat the people grossly by pretending - to tell fortunes, and to 
deduce the cause of the various occurrences in the lives of men 
from the various positions of the stars and planets, which they call 
aspects. When comets and eclipses of the sim and moon are constru- 
ed to signify the fate of princes, the revolution of states, famine, 
wars, and calamities of all kinds, it is a fallacy that belongs to this 
rank of sophisms. 

2. There is scarce any thing more common in human life than this 
sort of deceitful argument. If any two accidental events happen to 
occur, one is presently made the cause of the other. 

Example. If Titius wronged his neighbour of a gidnea, and in six 
months after he fell down and broke his leg, weak men will impute it 
to the divine vengeance on Titius for his former injustice. This 
sophism was found also in the early days of the world : for when holy 
Job was surrounded with uncommon miseries, his own friends inferred, 
that he was a most heinous criminal, and charged him with aggravated 
guilt as the cause of his calamities,- though God himself by a voice 
from heaven solved this uncharitable sophism, and cleared his 
servant Job of that charge. 

06s. How frequent is it among men to impute crimes to persons 
not actually chargeable with them ? We too often charge that 
upon the wicked contrivance and premeditated malice of a neigh- 
bour, which arose merely from ig-norance, or from an ung'uarded 
temper. And on the other hand, when we have a mind to excuse 
ourselves, we practice the same sophism, and charge that upon our 
inadvertence or our ignorance, which perhaps was designed wick- 
edness. What is really done by a necessity of circumstances, we 
sometimes impute to choice. And again, we charg-e that upon ne- 
cessity which was really desired and chosen. 

507. The next species of sophism is called fallacia-acci- 
clentis, or a sophism wherein we pronounce concerning the 
nature and essential properties of any subject according to 
something which is merely accidental to it. This is akin to 
the former, and is also very frequent in human life. 

Example 1. So if opium or the Peruvian bark has been used im- 
prudently or unsuccessfully, whereby the patient has received inju- 
ry, some weaker people absolately pronounce against the use of the 
bark or the opium upon all occasions whatsoever, and are ready to 
call them poison. 

2. So wine has been the accidental occasion of drunkenness and 
quarrels; learning and printing may have been the accidental cause 
of sedition in a state ; the reading of the Bible, by accident, has been 
abused to promote heresies, or destructive errors ; and for these rea- 
sons they have all been pronounced evil things. Mahomet forbad 



248 A Grammar of Logic. book iv> 

his followers the use of trine: the Turks discourage learning in 
their dominions ; and at one time the Scripture was forbidden to be 
read by the Laity. But how very unreasonable are these inferences, 
and these prohibitions which are built upon them ! 

508. The next species of sophistry is reasoning in a 
eiRCLE ; or the assuming of one proposition to prove anoth- 
er, and then resting the proof of the first on the evidence of 
the second. The Protestant theologians accuse the writers 
of the church of Rome of committing such blunders. - "The 
Papal theologians" (say both the Protestant logicians, Watts 
and Barron) " first prove the divine authority of their church 
from the Holy Scriptures, and then they employ the infalli- 
bility of the Pope to confirm their interpretation of the 
Scriptures. They establish the infallibility of the Pope by 
the testimony of the senses, and they employ the same in- 
fallibility to destroy the testimony of the senses, when their 
antagonists remonstrate against the credibility of the doc- 
trine of transubstantiation." 

509. The sophisms of composition and division come 
next to be mentioned, 

Illtis. 1. The sophism of composition is when we infer any thing 
concerning ideas in a compounded sense, which is only true in a divi- 
ded sense. 

Example 1. And when it is said in the gospel that Christ made 
the blind to see, and the deaf to hear, and the lame to walk, we ought 
not to infer hence that Christ performed contradictions ,• but those 
who were blind before, were made to see, and those who were deaf 
before, were made to hear, &c. So when the Scripture assures us, 
the worst ofsimiers may be saved ; it signifies only, that they who have 
been the worst of sinners may repent and be saved, not that they 
shall be saved in their sins. Or, if any one should argue thus, Two 
and three are even and odd : five are two and three ; therefore five are 
even and odd. Here, that is very falsely inferred concerning two 
or three in union, which is only true of them divided. 

Ilhis. 2. The sophism of division is when we infer the same thing 
concerning ideas in a divided sense, which is only true in a compoun- 
ded sense ; as, if we should pretend to prove that every soldier in the 
Grecian army put an hundred thousand Persians to fight, because the 
Grecian soldiers did so. Or if a man should argue thus, five is one 
number ; two and three are five ; therefore two and three are one 
number. 

Obs. This sort of sophism is committed when the word all is 
taken in a collective and a distributive sense, without a due distinc- 
tion ; as if any one should reason thus ; All the musical instruments 
of the Jewish temple made a noble concert; the harp was a musical 
instrument of the Jewish temple therefore the luirp made a noble 
concert. Here the word all in the major is collective, whereas such 
a conclusion requires that the word all should be distributive. 



chap. iv. Of Reasoning and Syllogism. 249 

It is the same fallacy when the universal word all or no refers to 
species in one proposition, and to individuals in another ; as, All ani- 
mals xvere in Noah's ark ; therefore no animals perished in the flood: 
whereas in the premise all animals signifies every kind of animals, 
which does not exclude or deny the drowning 1 of a thousand indivi- 
duals. 

510. The last sort of sophisms arises from our abuse of 
the ambiguity of words, which is the largest and most exten- 
sive kind of fallacy ; and indeed several of the former yh^a- 
cies might be reduced to this head. 

When the words or phrases Ave plainly equivocal, they are 
called sophisms of equivocation ; as if we should argue thus : 
He that sends forth a book into the light, desires it to be read : 
he that throws a book into the fire, sends it into the light ; 
therefore he that throws a book into the fire desires it to be 
read. 

This sophism, as well as the foregoing, and all of the like 
nature, are solved by showing the different senses of the 
words, terms, or phrases. Here light in the major proposi- 
tion signifies the public view of the ivorld ; in the minor it- 
signifies the brightness of flame and fi re; and therefore the 
syllogism has four terms, or rather it has no middle term, 
and proves nothing. 

But where such gross equivocations and ambiguities ap- 
pear in arguments, there is little danger of imposing upon 
ourselves or others. The greatest danger, and which we 
are perpetually exposed to in reasoning, is where the two 
senses or significations of one term are near akin, and not 
plainly distinguished, and yet they are really sufficiently 
different in their sense to lead us into great mistakes if we 
are not watchful. 



CHAPTER IV. 

/DF REASONING AND SYLLOGISM. 

511. If the mere conception and comparison of two ideas 
would always show us whether they agree or disagree; then 
all rational propositions would be matters of intelligence, or 
first principles, and there would be no use of reasoning, or 
drawing any consequences. It is the*harrowhess of the "hu- 
man mind which introduces the necessity of reasoning. 



250 A Grammar of Logic, book m. 

When we are unable to judge of the truth or falsehood of a 
proposition in an immediate manner, by the mere contem- 
plation of its subject and predicate, we are then constrained 
to use a medium, and to compare each of them with some 
third idea, that by seeing how far they agree or disagree 
with it, we may be able to judge how far they agree or dis- 
agree among themselves. 

Example 1. If there are two lines, A and B, and I know not 
whether they are equal or not, I take a third line C, or an inch, and 
apply it to each of them; if it agree with them both, then I infer 
that A and B are equal ,- but if it agree with the one and not with 
the other, then I conclude that A and B are unequal : if it agree 
with neither of them, there can be no comparison. 

2. So if the question be, ivhetlier God must be worshipped, we seek 
a third idea, suppose the idea of a Creator, and say, 

Our Creator must be -worshipped ; 

God is our Creator ; 

Therefore, God must be -worshipped. 

Illus.l. The comparison of this third idea, with the two distinct 
parts of the question, usually requires two propositions, which are 
called the premises; the third proposition which is drawn from 
them is the conclusion, wherein the question itself is answered, and 
the subject and predicate joined either in the negative or the affir- 
mative. 

2. The. foundation of all affirmative conclusions is laid in this gen- 
eral truth, That so far as two proposed ideas agree to any third 
idea, they agree also among themselves. The character of Creator 
agrees to God, and ivorship agrees to a Creator, therefore -worship 
agrees to God. 

3. The foundation of all negative conclusions is this, That where 
one of the two proposed ideas agrees with the third idea, and the 
other disagrees with it, they must needs disagree so far also with 
one another ; as, if no sinners are happy, and if angels are happy, 
then angels are not sinners. 

Corol. Thus it appears what is the strict and just notion of a syl- 
logism .- it is a sentence or argument, or a step of an argument, 
made up of three propositions, so disposed, as that the last is ne- 
cessarily inferred from those which go before, as in the instances 
which have been just mentioned. 

I. Of the Constitution of Syllogisms. 

512. In the constitution of a syllogism two things may be 
considered, viz. the matter and the form of it. 

I. The matter of which a syllogism is made up, is, three proposi- 
tions.; and these three propositions are made up of three ideas or 
terms variously joined. 

II. The three terms are called the remote matter of a syllogism ; and 
the three propositions the proxime or immediate matter of it. 



c*hap..Iv. Of Reasoning and Syllogism- £51 

513. The three terms are named the major, the minor, 
and the middle. 

1. The predicate of the conclusion is called the major term, be- 
cause it is generally of a larger extension than the minor term, or 
the subject. The major and minor terms are called the extremes. 

II. The middle term is the third idea invented and disposed in 
two propositions, in such a manner as to show the connection be- 
tween the major and minor term in the conclusion ; for which reason 
the middle term itself is sometimes called the argument. 

514. That proposition which contains the predicate of the 
conclusion, connected with the middle term, is usually cal- 
led the major proposition, whereas the minor proposition 
connects the middle term with the subject of the conclusion, 
and is sometimes called the assumption. 

Note 1. This exact distinction of the several parts of a syllogism, 
and of the major and minor terms connected with the middle term 
in the major and minor propositions, belongs chiefly to simple or 
categorical syllogisms, of which we shall speak by and bye, (Art. 522.) 
though all syllogisms whatsoever have something analogical to it. 

2. That the major proposition is generally placed first, and the 
minor second, and the conclusion in the last place, where the syllo- 
gism is regularly composed and represented. 

515. The form of a syllogism is the framing and dispos- 
ing of the premises according to art, or just principles of 
reasoning, and the regular inference of the conclusion from 
them. 

516. The act of reasoning, or inferring one thing from 
another, is generally expressed and known by the particle 
therefore, when the argument is formed according to the 
rules of art; though in common discourse or writing, such 
causal particles as for, because, manifest the act of reasoning 
as well as the illative particles then and therefore: and 
wheresoever any of these words is used, there is a perfect 
syllogism expressed or implied, though perhaps the three 
propositions do not appear, or are not placed in regular form. 

517. Each proposition possesses quantity and quality. 
By quantity is meant, that it is universal or particular ; by 
quality, that it is an affirmative, or negative. 

Ulus. 1. An universal proposition, {Art. 469. Jllus. 1.) includes a 
whole genus, or a whole species, and affirms or denies something of 
them. The major proposition of the following syllogism is an ex- 
ample; as, 

rt All animals are mortal ; 
Man is an animal ; 
Therefore, roan is mortal," 



252 Jl Grammar of Logic. book nv 

" All animals are mortal," is an universal affirmative proposition. 
Mortality is affirmed of the whole genus of animals. 

" No animal can live without food," is an universal negative pro- 
position. 

2. A particular proposition includes only a part of a genus or of a 
species, and affirms or denies something of it. (lllus. 2. Art. 469.) 
Accordingly, " Some animals are long lived," is a. particular affirm- 
ative proposition. " Some animals are not endowed with reason," 
is a particular negative proposition. 

Corol. 1. Hence it appears that four sorts of propositions only can 
enter a syllogism ; or, in other words, that syllogisms, are divided 
into four kinds, either according to the question which is proved 
by them, according to their own nature and composition, or accord- 
ing to the middle term, which is used to prove the question. They 
must be either universal affirmatives, or universal negatives, particu- 
lar affirmatives, or particular negatives. 

2. The general principle upon which these universal and particu- 
lar syllogisms are founded, is this, Whatsoever is affirmed or denied 
universally of any idea, may be affirmed or denied of all the particu- 
lar kinds or beings, which are contained in the extension of that 
universal idea. 

Note. In the doctrine of syllogisms, a sifigular and an indefinite 
proposition are ranked among universals. 

518. These four sorts of propositions, for the convenience 
of distinguishing them,' are denominated by the four follow- 
ing vowels, a, e, i, o. (Art. 536.) 

Ji, signifies universal affirmative ; e, universal negative ; 
i, particular affirmative : and o, particular negative. To 
assist the memory, these vowels and their properties are 
formed into the two following monkish verses : 

Asserit e negat a, sed universaliter ambje. 
Asserit i negat o, sed particulariter ambse. 

Scholia 1. We have now seen that although a syllogism consists 
of three propositions, it contains only three ideas, which are called 
terms, each of which is twice repeated, to make up the propositions. 
(.Art. 511.) 

2. That one of these ideas, which is always the predicate of the 
conclusion is called the major term ; another, the minor term, which 
is always the subject of the conclusion ; and the third the middle term. 
{Art. 513.) 

3. The reasoning of the syllogism lies in pointing out the-a^ee- 
ment or disagreement of the major and minor terms, by comparing 
them with the middle term. (Art. 517.) 

4. The middle term never appears in the conclusion, or third pro- 
position ; — it is compared successively with the major and minor 
terms in the two first propositions, or premises, as they are sometimes 
called. It is twice repeated in the premises ; it may be either the 
predicate of the major premise, and the subject of the minor ; or, it 
may be the subject of the rwjor premise, and predicate of the minor, 



chap, iv. Of Reasoning and Syllogism. 253 

In like manner, both the major and minor terms stand once in each 
premise, and they are both repeated in the conclusion. 

Example. In the syllogism formerly quoted, {Art. 517.) the minor 
term is max, the major term is mortal, the middle term is animal, 
In the first premise, " all animals are mortal," the middle term 
animal, is compared with the major term mortal. Animal is the 
sun ject ; mortal is the predicate; and it is affirmed, or predicated 
of all animals, that they are mortal. In the second premise, " man is 
an animal," max, the minor term, is compared with animal, the 
middle term; and it is affirmed, or predicated of man, that he is an 
animal. The middle term, animal, is the subject of the former pre- 
mise, and the predicate of the latter. In the conclusion, " man is 
mortal," the minor term, man, is inferred to agree with the major 
term, mortal, because, in the premises, they were both found to 
agree with the same middle term, animal. 

II. Of plain simple Syllogisms, and their Rules. 

519. The next division of syllogisms is into single and 
compound. This is drawn from their nature and compo- 
sition. 

520. Single syllogisms are made up of three propositions : 
compound syllogisms contain more than three propositions, 
and may be formed into two or more syllogisms. 

521. Single syllogisms, for distinction's sake, may be 
divided into* simple, complex, and conjunctive. 

522. Those are properly called simple or categorical syl- 
logisms, which are made up of three plain, single or cate- 
gorical propositions, wherein the middle term is evidently 
and regularly joined with one part of the question in the ma- 
jor proposition, and with the other in the minor, whence 
there follows a plain single conclusion; as, every human 
virtue is to be sought with diligence ; prudence is human 
virtue ; therefore prudence is to be sought diligmtly. 

Obs. Though the terms of propositions may be complex, yet where 
the composition of the whole argument is thus plain, simple, and re- 
gular, it is properly called a simple syllogism, since the complexion 
does not belong to the syllogistic form of it. 

523. Simple syllogisms have several rules belonging to 
them, which being observed, will generally secure us from 
false inferences : but these rules are founded on four gene- 
ral axioms. 

524. Axiom 1. Particular propositions are contained in 
universals, and may be inferred from them ; but universals 

* As ideas and propositions are divided into single and compound, 
and single are subdivided into simple and complex ,■ so there are the 
*me divisions and subdivisions applied to syllogisms 



254 A Grammar of Logu. book Sv. 

are not contained in particulars, nor can they be inferred 
from them. 

59,5. ^Axiom 2. In all universal propositions, the subject 
is universal : in all particular propositions, the subject is 
particular. 

526. Axiom 3. In all affirmative propositions, the predi- 
cate has no greater extension than the subject ; for its 
extension is restrained by the subject, and therefore it is 
always to be esteemed as a particular idea. It is by mere, 
accident, if it be ever taken universally, and cannot happen 
but in such universal or singular propositions as are recip- 
rocal. 

527. Axiom 4. The predicate of a negative proposition is 
always taken universally, for in its whole extension it is 
denied of the subject. If we say no stone is vegetable, we 
deny all sorts of vegetation concerning stones. 

The Rules of simple regular Syllogisms, are these : 

528. Bide I. The middle term must not be taken twice 
.particularly, but once at least universally. For if the middle 
term be taken from two different parts or kinds of the same 
universal idea, then, the subject of the conclusion is com- 
pared with one of these parts, and the predicate with 
another part, and this will never show whether that subject 
and predicate agree or disagree : there will then be four 
distinci terms in the syllogism, and the two parts of the 
question will not be compared with the same third idea; as 
if I say, some men are pious, and s&me men are robbers, I 
can never infer that some robbers are pious, for the middle 
term men being taken twice particularly, it is not the same 
men who are spoken of in the major and minor propositions. 

529. Rule II. The terms in the conclusion must never be 
taken more universally than they are in the premises. The 
reason is derived from the first axiom, {Art. 524.) that gen- 
erals can never be inferred from particulars. 

530. Ride III. A negative conclusion cannot be proved 
by two affirmative premises. For when the two terms of 
the conclusion are united, or agree to the middle term, it 
does not follow by any means that they disagree from one. 
another. 

531. Rule IV. If one of the premises be negative, the con- 
clusion must be negative. For if the middle term be denied 
of either part of the conclusion, it may show that the terms 
of the conclusion disagree, but it can never show that thev 
agree. 



»hap. iv. Of Reasoning and Syllogism. -255 

532. Rule V. If either of the premises be particular, the 
conclusion must be particular. This may be proved for the 
most part from the first axiom. 

Obs. These two last Titles are sometimes united in this single sen- 
tence, The conclusion always follows the weaker part of the premises 
Now negatives and particulars are counted inferior to affirmatives 
and universals. 

533. Rule VI. From tivo negative premises nothing can 
be concluded. For they separate the middle term both from 
the subject and predicate of the conclusion, and when two 
ideas disagree to a third, we cannot infer that they either 
agree or disagree with each other. 

1 Obs. Yet where the negative is a part of the middle term, the two 
premises may look like negatives according to the words, but one 
of them is affirmative in sense ; as, What has no thought cannot rea- 
son; but a worm has no thought ; therefore a worm cannot reason. 
The minor proposition does really affirm the middle term concern- 
ing the subject, namely, a worm is what has no thought, and, thuSj 
it is properly, in this syllogism, an affirmative proposition. 

534. Rule VII. From two Particular Premises nothing 
can be concluded. This rule depends chiefly on the first 
axiom. 

III. Of the Modes and Figures of simple Syllogisms. 

535. The figure of a syllogism is the proper disposition 
of the middle term, with the parts of the question. 

Illus. The middle term may be the subject of the major premise, 
and the predicate of the minor, when the syllogism is of the first 
figure ; ( See Art. 543 .J 

Or, it may be the predicate of both premises, which makes the 
syllogism of the second figure ,■ (~ See Jlrt. 544. J 

Or, it may be the subject of both premises when the syllogism 
will be of the third figure ; ( See Art. 545. J 

Or, it may be the predicate of the major premise, and the subject 
of the minor, when the syllogism will be of the fourth figure. 

Corol. As the middle term never appears in the conclusion, and 
must appear twice in the premises, it will appear, that these four 
are all the positions of which it is susceptible ; and consequently 
that the number of figures must also be four. 

J\'ote. The examples of each figure are deferred till we shall have 
explained the meaning of mode, when the same examples will serve 
to illustrate both figures and modes. 

536. All syllogisms are composed of four sorts of propo- 
sitions ; universal affirmatives, or universal negatives ; 
particular affirmatives, or particular negatives ; and these 
propositions are discriminated by the vowels a, e, i, o. (Art. 



S56 A Grammar of Logic. book iv, 

518.) Now the mode of a syllogism, is determined by the 
species of the propositions of which it is composed. 

Illus. 1. These species may be three universal affirmatives mark- 
ed by three a's ; 

Or three universal negatives marked by three e's ; 

Or three particular affirmatives marked by three i's : 

Or three particular negatives marked by three o's ; 

Or, they may be two universal qffimnatives, and one universal ne- 
gative, marked by two a's and one e,- 

Or two miiversal affirmatives, and one particular affirmative, 
marked by two a's and one i ; 

Or two universal affirmatives, and one particular negative, mark- 
ed by two a's and one o. 

2. Each of these combinations makes a Mode ; and there may be 
as many modes in each figure, as there are possible combinations of 
the four vowels. It is found, by computation, that the number of 
possible combinations is no fewer than sixty-four for each figure, so 
that all the four figures will furnish two hundred and fifty-six modes. 

537. But of these possible modes, a few only form legiti- 
mate syllogisms. The first figure has no more than four 
conclusive modes ; one consisting of three universal propo- 
sitions, denoted by three a's, to which the schoolmen have 
given the name of Barbara, because it contains the vowel a 
three times. 

538. A second, consisting of an universal major proposi- 
tion, an universal affirmative minor proposition, and an uni- 
versal negative conclusion, denoted by the vowels e, a, e, 
to which has been given the name of Celarent, because the 
vowels of this mode form the vowels of that word. 

539. A third, containing an universal affirmative major 
proposition, a particular affirmative minor proposition, and 
a particular affirmative conclusion, denoted by the letters 
a, i, i, out of which is formed the word Darii, for the name 
of this mode. 

540. A fourth, consisting of an universal negative major 
premise, and a particular affirmative minor premise, and a 
particular negative conclusion, marked by the vowels e, i, o, 
of which has been formed the word Ferio, for the name of 
the last mode. 

541. In the second figure are found also four conclu- 
sive modes; and the quantity and quality of their propor- 
tions will be readily comprehended from their names, in 
which, as in the preceding figure, the vowels only are signi- 
ficant. Cesare is the name of the first mode; Cameslres, of 
the second ; Festino, of the third ; Baroco, of the fourth. 



chap* iv. Of Reasoning and Syllogism. 

542. The third figure has six modes, denoted by the 
hard words, Barapti, Felapton, Bisamis, Batisi, Bocardo, 
Ferison, 

Carol. Hence it appears that all the legitimate modes of the three 
first figures are no more than fourteen. The names of these modes 
and figures were, to aid the memory, formed by the schoolmen into 
"die following barbarous hexameters .- 

Barbara, Celarent, Darii, Ferio, dato primse ; 
Cesare, Camestres, Festino, Baroco, secundx ; 
Tertia grande sonans recitat Darapti, Felapton,- 
Adjungens Disamis, Datisi, Bocardo, Ferison. 

Note. Aristotle has not treated separately of the modes of the 
tburth figure, because he found they could be reduced to those of 
die former figures. We follow his example. 

543. We shall now offer some examples to illustrate the 
theories which we have endeavoured to explain. The fol- 
lowing example is a syllogism of the first figure, and of 
the mode Barbara : 

bar All bad men are miserable ; 

da All tyrants are bad men ; 

iia Therefore, all tyrants are miserable. 

Analysis. The major term is "miserable," the minor term is 
"tyrants," and the middle term is "bad men." The middle term 
is the subject of the major premise, "all bad men are miserable," 
and the predicate of the minor premise, "all tyrants are bad men." 
The syllogism is therefore of the first figure, which requires these 
positions of the middle term. The propositions are all universal 
affirmatives ; consequently, the mode is Barbara. {Art. 537.) 

544. The next shall be an example of the second fig- 
ure, and of the mode Cesare. 

ce No deceitful man merits confidence ; 

sa All honest men merit confidence ; 

re Therefore, no honest man is deceitful. 

Analysis. " Deceitful," is the major term : " honest man," is the 
minor term ; and "merits confidence," is the middle term. The 
middle term is the predicate of botli the premises, " no deceitful 
man merits confidence," "all honest men merit confidence," which 
are the situations of the middle term required by the second figure. 
The first premise is universal negative, marked by the letter e, " no 
deceitful man merits confidence ;" the second universal affirmative 
marked by the letter a, " all honest men merit confidence ;" the 
conclusion universal negative, marked again by the letter e, " no 
honest man is deceitful." These letters constitute the mode Cesare. 
{Art. 541.) 

54 . The subsequent syllogism is of the third figure, 
and ot the mode Barapti. 



258 xfl Grammar of Logic, book xv. 

da All good men are happy; 

rap All good men hate the devil ; 

ti Therefore, some men who hate the devil are happy. 

Analysis. The major term is, " happy-," the minor term is, " hate 
the devil ;" and the middle term is, " good men." The middle 
term is the subject of both premises, " all g - ood men are happy," 
" all good men hate the devil," which constitutes a syllogism of the 
third figure. The major premise, " all good men are happy," is an 
universal affirmative ; the minor premise, " all good men hate the; 
devil," is the same : the conclusion, " some men who hate the 
devil are happy," is a particular affirmative. The two premises are 
noted by the two a's, the conclusion by i, and these letters form the 
mode, Darapti. {Art. 542.) 

We have now produced an example of a mode of each 
figure. It would be tedious to exemplify all the modes ; 
but to prevent suspicion of unfair dealing in this branch of 
logic, we shall, from the different figures and modes, add a 
lew instances promiscuously, to illustrate further the nature 
of this famous instrument of reasoning. 

546. The following syllogism is of the mode Bocardo, 
which belongs to the third figure. The name shews, that 
the first premise, o, must be a particular negative; the 
second premise, a, an universal affirmative ; and the con- 
clusion, o, a particular negative. The third figure requires 
the middle term to be the subject of both premises ; all these 
requisites are thus fulfilled. 

no Some good men are not rich ; 

cak All good men are happy ; 

no Therefore, some happy men are not rich men. 

547. The next example is of Camestres, a mode of the 
second figure. 

cam All men are animals ; 

est No stone is an animal ; 

res Therefore, no stone is a man. 

Analysis. " Animal," is the middle term, and is the predicate of 
both premises, as required by the second figure. The first premise 
is a, universal affirmative ; the second, e, universal negative ; the 
conclusion, e, also universal negative. Hence the mode Camestres. 

548. The mode Darii shall furnish another example. 

da Every thing base should be avoided; 

ri Some pleasures are base ; 

i Therefore, some pleasures should be avoided. 

Analysis. " Avoided," is the major term ; "pleasures," the minor 

term; " base," the middle term. Base, is the subject of the major 

premise, and the predicate of the minor, which refers the syllogism 

to the first figure. The first premise marked a, is universal atfirm- 



chap. iv. Of Reasoning and Syllogism. 259 

ative ; the second premise and the conclusion are marked i, i, par. 
ticular affirmatives ; hence the mode Darii. (Art. 589.) 

549. In each figure there are singular syllogisms, or syl- 
logisms relative to individuals, which cannot be reduced to 
any of the modes. They are allowed, however, to be legiti- 
mate syllogisms, and they are constructed on the same prin- 
ciple with the rest. The only difference is, that all the 
established modes refer to genus and species : these refer to 
species and individuals. 

Every traitor deserves death ; 

Judas was a traitor ; 

Therefore, Judas deserved death. 
This s)dlogism is of the first figure, where the middle term " trai- 
tor," is the subject of the major premise, and the predicate of the 
minor premise. 

550. The following is a particular example of the second 
figure : 

Socrates was an ugly man : 
Plato was not an >g-ly man ; 
Therefore, Plato was not Socrates. 
The middle term, " ugiy," is the predicate of both premises 

551. A particular example of the third figure. 

Judas did not obtain salvation; 
Judas was an apostle ; 

Therefore, every apostle did not obtain salvation. 
" Judas," is the middle term, and the subject of both premises, ac- 
cording to the requisitions of the third figure. 

IV. Of Complex Syllogisms. 

552. It is not the mere use of complex terms in a syllo- 
gism that gives it this name, though one of the terms is 
\xma\\y complex ; but those are properly called complex 
syllogisms, in which the middle term is not connected with 
the whole subject, or the whole predicate in two distinct 
propositions, but is intermingled and compared with them 
by parts, or in a more confused manner, in different forms 
of speech ; as, 

The sun is a senseless being ; 
The Persians worshipped the sun : 
Therefore, the Persians worshipped a senseless being. 
Here the predicate of the conclusion is " worshipped a se?iseless 
being," part of which "a senseless being," is joined with the middle 
term sun in- the major proposition, and the other part " worship- 
ped" in the minor. 

Obs. Though this sort of argument is confessed to be entangled or 
confused, and irregular, if examined by the rules of simple syllogisms,- 



260 Ji Grammar of Logic. book i\. 

yet there is a great variety of arguments used in books of learning- 
and in common life, whose consequence is strong and evident, and 
which must be ranked under this head ; as, in the five following 
cases. 

553. (I.) Exclusive propositions will form a complex ar 
gument; as, 

Pious men are the only favourites of heaven , 
True Christians are favourites of heaven ; 
Therefore, true Christians are pious men. 
Or thus, hypocrites are not pious men ; 
Therefore, hypocrites are not favourites of heaven, 

554. (II.) Exceptive propositions will make such complex 
syllogisms; as, 

None but physicians came to the consultation ; 

The nurse is no physician ; 

Therefore, the nurse came not to the consultation 

555. (III.) Or, comparative propositions ; as, 

Knowledge is better than riches ; 
Virtue is better than knowledge ; 
Therefore, virtue is better than riches : 

Or thus, A dove will fly a mile in a minute -; 

A swallow flies swifter than a dove ; 

Therefore, a swallow will fly more than a mile in a minute- 

556. (IV.) Inceptive and desitive propositions : as, 

The fogs vanish as the sun rises; 

But the fogs have not yet begun to vanish ; 

Therefore, the sun is not yet risen. 

557. (V.) Or, modal propositions; as, 

It is necessary that a General understand the art of war; 

But Caius does not understand the art of war ; 

Therefore, it is necessary Caius should not be a General. 

Or thus, A total eclipse of the sun would cause darkness at noon ; 

It is possible that the moon at that time may totally eclipse the sun; 

Therefore, it is possible that the moon may cause darkness at noon 

558. Besides all these, there is a greater number of com- 
plex syllogisms which can hardly be reduced under any 
particular titles, because the forms of human language are 
so exceedingly various; as, 

Example 1. Christianity requires us to believe what the Apostles 

wrote ; St. Paul is an Apostle ; 
Therefore, Christianity requires us to believe what St. Paul wrote: 
2. No human artist can make an animal ; 

A fly or a worm is an animal ; 

Therefore, no human artist can make a fly or a worm 






hap. iv. Of Reasoning and Syllogism. 2t>l 

3. The father always lived in London ; 
The son always lived with the father ; 
Therefore, the son always lived in London. 

4. The blossom soon follows the full bud ; 
This pear-tree hath many full buds ; 
Therefore, it will shortly have many blossom? 

5. One hailstone never falls alone; 
But a hailstone fell just now ; 
Therefore, others fell with it. 

6. Thunder seldom comes without lightning 1 ; 
But it thundered yesterday ; 
Therefore, probably it lightened also. 

7. Moses wrote before the Trojan war ; 

The first Greek historians wrote after the Trojan war ; 
Therefore the first Greek historians wrote after Moses. 

JVote. Perhaps some of these syllogisms may be reduced to those 
which are called connexive ; (Art. 566.) but it is of little moment to 
what species they belong ; for it is not any formal set of rules, so 
much as the evidence and force of reason, that must determine the 
truth or falsehood of all such syllogisms. 

Corol. Now the force of all these arguments is so evident and 
conclusive, that though the form of the syllogism be irregular, we 
are sure the inferences are just and true ; for the premises, accord- 
ing to the reason of things, do really contain the conclusion that is 
deduced from them, which is a never-fading test of a true syllogism, 
as shall be shown hereafter. 

559. The truth of most of these complex syllogisms, may 
also be made to appear, if needful, by reducing them either 
to regular, simple syllogisms, or to some of the conjunctive 
syllogisms, which are described in the next section. We 
will give an instance only in the first, and leave the rest to 
exercise the ingenuity of the reader. 

Example 1. The first argument may be reduced to a syllogism in 
Barbara, thus, 

The sun is a senseless being ; 
What the Persians worshipped, is the sun ; 
Therefore what the Persians worshipped is a senseless being. 
Though the conclusive force of this argument is evident without 
'.he reduction. 

V. Of Conjunctive Syllogisms. 

560. Those are called conjunctive syllogisms, wherein 
one of the premises, namely the major, has distinct parts, 
which are joined by a conjunction, or some such particle of 
speech. Most times the major or minor, or both, are e.ipli- 
citly compound prepositions ; and generally the major propo- 
sition is made up of two distinct parts or propositions, in 

m * 



262 A Grammar of Logit. book it.- 

such a manner, as that by the assertion of one in the minor, 
the other is either asserted or denied in the conclusion; or, 
by the denial of one in the minor, the other is either assert- 
ed or denied in the conclusion. It is hardly possible, indeed, 
to fit any short definition to include all the kinds of these; 
but the chief amongst them are the conditional syllogism, the 
disjunctive, the relative, and the connexive. 

561. (I.) The conditional or hypothetical syllogism, is 
that whose major or minor, or both, are conditional proposi- 
tions; as, 

If there be a God, the world is governed by Providence ; 
But there is a God ; 

Therefore, the world is governed by Providence. 
Illus. 1. These syllogisms admit two sorts of true argumentation;;, 
whether the major is conditional or not. 

I. When the antecedent is asserled in the minor, that the conse- 
quent may be asserted in the conclusion ; such is the preceding- 
example. This is called arguing from the positio?i of the antecedent tfi 
the position of the consequent. 

II. "When the consequent is contradicted in the minor proposition, 
that the antecedent may be contradicted in the conclusion ; as, 

If atheists are in the right, then the world exists without a 

cause ; 
But the world does not exist without a cause ; 
Therefore, atheists are not in the right. 
This is called arguing/rom the removing of the consequejit to the re- 
Moving of the antecedent . 

Illus. 2. To remove the antecedent or consequent here, does not 
merely signify the denial of it, but the contradiction of it, for the 
mere denial of it by a contrary proposition will not make a true syllo- 
gism, as appears thus : 

If every creature be reasonable, every brute is reasonable ; 
But no brute is reasonable ; 
Therefore, no creature is reasonable. 
Whereas, if you say in the minor, every brute is not reasonable, 
then it would follow truly in the conclusion, therefore every creature 
is not reasonable. 

Illus. 3. When the antecedent or consequent are negative propo- 
sitions, they are removed by an affirmative ; as, 

If there be no God, then the world does not discover creative 

wisdom ; 
But the world does discover creative wisdom ; 
Therefore, there is a God. 
In this instance the consequent is removed or contradicted in the 
minor, that the antecedent may be contradicted in the eoncluskuf- 
S-o in this argument of St. Paul, 1 Cor. xv. 

If the dead rise not, Christ died in vain ; 
But Christ did net die in vain ; 
Therefore, the dead shall rise, 



iiivr. iv. Of Reasoning and Syllogism. 263 

562. There arc also two sorts of false arguing, 

1. From the removing of the antecedent to the removing 
of the consequent; 

Or, II. From the position of the consequent, to the posi- 
tion of the antecedent. 

Examples of these are easily framed ; as, 

1. If a minister were a prince he must be honoured ; 
But a minister is not a prince ; 

Therefore, he must not be honoured. 

2. If a minister were a prince, he must be honoured ; 
But a minister must be honoured ; 

Therefore, he is a prince. 

Who sees not the falsehood of both these syllogisms? 

Obs. 1. If the subject of the antecedent and the consequent be 
he same, then the hypothetical syllogism may be turned into a cate- 
gorical one : -as, If Cjesar be a king, he must be honoured ; but 
Cscsar is a king ; therefore, &C. This may be changed thus, Every 
king must be honoured : but Czesar is a king ; therefore, &c. 

2. If the major proposition only be conditional, the conclusion is 
categorical : but if the minor or both be conditional, the conclusion is 
-.ilso conditional ; as, 

The worshippers of images are idolaters ; 

If the Romans worship a crucifix, they ai*e worshippers of aa 

image ; 
Therefore, if the Romans worship a crucifix they are idolaters. 
But this sort of syllogism should be avoided as much as possible 
in disputation, because it greatly embarrasses a cause : The syllo- 
gisms, whose major only is hypothetical, are very frequent, and used 
with great advantage. 

565. (II.) A disjunctive syllogism is when the major pro- 
position is disjunctive; as, 

The earth moves in a circle or an ellipsis ; 
But it does not move in a circle ; 
Therefore, it moves in an ellipsis. 

564. A disjunctive syllogism may have many members 
or parts; 

Thus, it is either spring, summer, autumn, or winter ; 
But it is not spring, autumn, nor summer ; 
Therefore, it is winter. 

Obs. The true method of arguing here, is from the assertio?i of one, 
to the denial of the rest, or from the denial of one or more, to the asser- 
tion of -what remains ; but the major should be so framed, that the 
several parts of it cannot be true together, though one of them is 
evidently true. 

565. (III.) A relative syllogism requires the major pro- 
position to be relative ; as, 



264 Ji Grammar of Logic. book iv- 

Where the general is, there shall his soldiers be ; 
But the general is in winter quarters ; 
Therefore, his soldiers shall be there also. 
, Or, As is the captain, so are his soldiers j 
But the captain is a coward ; 
Therefore, his soldiers are so too. 
Obs. 1. Arguments that relate to the doctrine of proportion, must- 
be referred to this head ; as, 

As two are to four, so are three to six ; but two make the half of 
four; therefore three make the half of six. 

2. Besides these, there is another sort of syllogism which is veiy 
natural and common, and yet authors take very little notice of it, 
call it by an improper name, and describe it very defectively ; and 
that is, 

566. (IV.) A connexive syllogism. This some have 
called copulative, but it by no means requires the major to 
be either a copulative nor a compound proposition according 
to the definition given of it, {Art. 560 and 568.) but it re- 
quires that two or more ideas be so connected, either in the 
complex subject or predicate of the major, that if one of them 
be affirmed or denied in the minor, common sense will na- 
turally show us what will be the consequence. 

Example 1. Meekness and humility always go together ; 

Moses was a man of meekness ; 

Therefore, Moses was also humble. 
Or we may form this minor, 

Pharaoh was no humble man ; therefore he was not meek! 

2. No man can serve God and Mammon ; 
The covetous man serves Mammon ; 
Therefore, he cannot serve God. 

Or the minor may run thus, 
The true Christian serves God, 
Therefore, he cannot serve Mammon. 

3. Genius must join with study to make a great man ; 
Florino has genius, but he cannot study ; 
Therefore, Florino will never be a great man. 

Or thus, Quintus studies hard, but has no genius ; 
Therefore, Quintus will never be a great man. 

4. Gulo cannot make a dinner without flesh and fish ; 
There was no fish to be gotten to day ; 
Therefore, Gulo this day cannot make a dinner. 

.5. London and Paris are in different latitudes ; 
The latitude of London is 51 J degrees ; 
*■ Therefore, this cannot be the latitude of Paris. 

6. Joseph and Benjamin had one mother ; 
Rachael was the mother of Joseph ; 
Therefore, she was Benjamin's mother tod 



"hap. iv. Of Reasoning and Syllogism. 265 

7. The father and the son are of equal stature ; 
The father is six feet high ; 

Therefore, the son is six feet high also. 

8. Pride is inconsistent with innocence ; 
Angels have innocence ; 
Therefore, they have no pride j 

Or thus, devils have pride ; 
Therefore, they have not innocence. 

567. We might multiply other instances of these eonnex- 
ive syllogisms, by bringing in all sorts of exceptive, excusive. 
■ omparaiive, and modal propositions into the composition oi 
them ; for all these may be wrought into conjunctive, as 
well as into simple syllogisms, and we may thereby render 
I hem complex. 

Obs. 1. Most of these may be transformed into categorical syllo- 
gisms, by the student who has a mind to prove their truth that way ; 
or they may be easily converted into each other by changing the 
forms of speech. 

2. These conjunctive syllogisms are seldom deficient or faulty in 
their form ; for such a deficiency would generally be discovered at 
first glance, by common reason, without any artificial rules of logic ; 
the chief care, therefore, is to see that the major proposition be 
true, upon which the whole force of the argument usually depends, 

VI. Of Compound, Imperfect, or Irregular Syllogisms. 

568. Compound Syllogisms are made up uf two or more 
single syllogisms, and may be resolved int< them. Imper- 
fect, or Irregular Syllogisms cannot be reduced to the 
rules of mode and figure. 

Example. Should we argue thus, 

Every man is mortal ; 

Therefore, every king is mortal. 
The syllogism appears to be imperfect, as it consists but of two pro- 
positions. Yet is it complete, only the minor, 

Every king is a man ; 
is omitted, and left to be supplied by the reader, as being a pro- 
position so familiar and evident, that it cannot escape his observa- 
tion and judgment of the conclusion. 

569. Enthymeme, the first seemingly imperfect syllogism 
we shall handle, occurs frequently in reasoning, especially 
where it makes a part of common conversation. (Example 
Art. 294.; 

Jllus. The example just given is an enthymeme: and in the fol- 
lowing example one of the propositions which constitute the pre- 
mises is omitted, and the conclusion is drawn from the other pre- 
mise, as if the syllogism were regular and complete. 

Example. Whatever thinks is a spiritual substance ; 

Therefore, the mind of man is a spiritual substance : — 0: 
thus : — The mind thinks ; 



266 J2 Grammar of Logic. book lie. 

Therefore, the mind is a spiritual substance. 
In the former case, we omit the minor proposition, 

The mind of man thinks, 
and infer the conclusion from the major. In the latter case, we 
omit the major proposition, 

Whatever thinks is a spiritual substance, 
and infer the same conclusion from the minor. It is supposed in 
both cases, that the connexion of the conclusion with either pre- 
mise, is so apparent, as to render unnecessary the presence of the 
other premise. 

The premise in this case is called the antecedent ; and the con.' 
elusion the sequela, or the inference. 

Scholium. In enthymemes there is a particular elegance, espe- 
cially in common conversation, because not d splaying the argu- 
ment in a!) its parts, they leave to the exercise and invention of the 
mind, that scope which it dehg'hts *c take. I>,!des, by this means 
it is put upon that exercise that makes it a partaker in the discovery 
of what is proposed to it. And, in fine writing, this is the great 
secret, so to frame and put together our thoughts as to g've full 
play to the reader's imagination, and draw him insensibly into 
our views an' course of reasoning. This, says Duncan, gives 
a pleasure nol unlike to that which the author feels himself in com- 
posing. It, besides shortens discourse, and adds a certain force 
and liveliness to our arguments, when the words in which they are 
conveyed favour the natural quickness of the mind in its operations, 
and a single expression is left to exhibit the whole train of thoughts. 

570. But there is another species of reasoning with two 
propositions, which seems to be complete in itself, and 
where we adroit the conclusion without supposing any tacit 
or suppressed judgment in the mind, from which it follows 
syliogistjcally. We should term this the ground of reason- 
ing in immediate consequences. 

Illus. 1. This so appears, when between propositions where the 
connexion is such, that the admission of the one, necessarily, and 
at the first sight, implies the admission of the other. For, if it so 
falls out that the proposition on which the other depends is self- 
evident, we content ourselves with barely affirming it, and infer that 
other by a direct conclusion. 

2. Thus, by admitting an universal proposition, we are forced to 
admit of all the particular propositions comprehended under it, this 
being the very condition that constitutes a proposition universal. 
(Jlrt. 469. Illus. 1.) If then that universal proposition chances to 
be self-evident, the particular ones follow of course, without any 
further train of reasoning. 

Example 1. Whoever allows, for instance, that things equal to one 
a?id the same thing are equal to one another, must at the same time 
allow, that ttvo triangles, each equal to a square ivhose side is three- 
inches, are also equal between themselves. This argument therefore — 
Things equal to one and the same thing are equal to one another ,- 
Therefore, these ttvo triangles, eacheqnalto the square of a line pf three: 

inches, are equal between themselves-— 



chap. iv. Of Reasoning and Syllogism. 26? 

is complete in its kind, and contains all that is necessary towards a 
just and legitimate conclusion ; for the first or universal proposi- 
tion is self-evident, and therefore requires no farther proof : and as 
the truth of the particular is inseparably connected with that of the 
universal, it follows from it by an obvious and unavoidable conse- 
quence. 

571. Now, in all cases of this kind, where propositions 
are deduced one from another, on account of a known and 
evident connection, we are said to reason by immediate con- 
sequence. Such a coherence of propositions, manifest at 
first sight, and forcing itself upon the mind, frequently oc- 
curs in reasoning. Logicians have explained the several 
suppositions upon which it takes place, and allow of all im- 
mediate consequences that follow in conformity to them. 

Obs. These arguments, (Art. 570 and 571.) though seemingl) 
complete, because the conclusion follows necessarily from the single 
proposition that goes before, may yet be considered as real enthy- 
memes, whose major, which is a conditional proposition, is wanting. 

Exampk 1. The syllogism just mentioned, when represented ac- 
cording to this view, will run thus ; 

Things equal to one and the same thing are equal to one another ; 
These tivo triangles, each equal to a square -whose side is three i?iches, 

are also equal betiuee n themselves. 
But things equal to one and the same thing, are equal to one another „• 
Therefore, also these triangles, &fc. are equal bet-ween themselves. 

Illus. 1. The foregoing observation and example will be found to 
hold in all immediate consequences whatsoever, insomuch that they 
are in fact no more than enthymemes of hypothetical syllogisms. But 
then it is particular to them, that the ground on which the conclu- 
sion rests, namely, its coherence with the minor, is of itself appar- 
ent, and seen immediately to flow from the rules of logic. As it is, 
therefore, entirely unnecessary to express a self-evident connection, 
the major, whose office that is, is constantly omitted ; nay, and seems 
so very little needful to enforce the conclusion, as to be accounted 
commonly no part of the arg-ument. 

2. It must indeed be owned, that the foregoing immediate conse- 
quence might have been reduced to a simple as well as an hypotheti- 
cal syllogism. This will be evident to any one who gives himself the 
trouble to make the experiment. But it is not .my design to enter 
farther into these niceties — what has been said shews, — That all ar- 
guments consisting of but two propositions are real enthymemes, and 
reducible to complete syllogisms of some one form or other. 

Carol. As therefore the ground on which the conclusion rests, 
must needs be always the same with that of the syllogisms to which 
it belongs, we have here an universal criterion whereby at all times 
to ascertain the justness and validity of our reasonings in this way. 

579.. A sorites of plain simple syllogisms, is a way of ar- 
guing, in which a great number of propositions are so linked 



268 A Grammar of Logic. book iv. 

together, that the predicate of one becomes continually the 
subject of the next following, until at last a conclusion is 
formed, by bringing together the subject of the first proposi- 
tion and the predicate of the last. 

Example. Of this kind is the following- argument : 

Godis omnipotent. 

An omnipotent being can do every thing possible. 

He that can do every thing possible, can do -whatever involves not a, 
contradiction. 

Therefore, God can do whatever involves not a contradiction. 

Ulus. 1. This particular combination of propositions may be con- 
tinued to any length we please, without in the least weakening the 
ground upon which the conclusion rests. The reason is, because the 
sorites itself may be resolved into as many simple syllogisms as there 
are middle terms in it ; where this is found universally to hold, that 
when such a resolution is made, and the syllogisms are placed in 
train, the conclusion of the last in the series is also the conclusion of 
the sorites. 

2. This kind of argument therefore, as it serves to unite several 
syllogisms into one, must stand upon the same foundatioTi with the 
syllogisms of which it consists, and is indeed, properly speaking, no 
other than a compendious way of reasoning syllogistically. Any one 
maybe satisfied of this at pleasure, if he but takes the trouble of re- 
solving the foregoing sorites into two distinct syllogisms ; for he 
will there find, that he arrives at the same conclusion ; and that too 
by the very same train of thinking, but with abundantly more 
words, and the addition of two superfluous propositions. 

573. A sorites of hypothetical syllogisms. "What is here 
said of plain simple propositions, may be well applied to 
those that are conditional ; that is, any number of them may 
be so joined together in a series, that the consequent of one 
shall become continually the antecedent of the next follow- 
ing ; in which case, by establishing the antecedent of the 
first proposition, we establish the consequent of the last, or 
by removing the last consequent, remove also the first ante- 
cedent. 

Example 1. This way of reasoning is exemplified in the follow- 
ing argument : 

Jf we love any person, all emotions of hatred iotuards him cease. 

Jf all emotions of hatred towards aperson cease, -we cannot rejoice in 

his misfortunes. 
If we rejoice not in his misfortunes, we certainly wish him no injury. 
Therefore, if we love aperson, we wish him no injury. 

Illus. It is evident that these sorites, as well as the last, may be 
resolved into a series of distinct syllogisms, with this difference only, 
that here the syllogisms are all conditional. But as the conclusion 
of the last syllogism in the series is the same with the conclusion of 
the sorites, it is plain, that this also is a compendious way of reason- 



chap. iv. Of Reasoning and Syllogism. 289 

ing, whose evidence arises from the evidence of the several single 
syllogisms into which it may be resolved. 

Example. 2. The mind is a thinking- substance. A thinking sub- 
stance is a spirit. A spirit has no extension. What has no exten- 
sion has no parts. What has no parts is indissoluble. What is in- 
dissoluble is immortal. Therefore, the mind is immortal. (Corol. 
1,2, and 3. Art. 99.) 

This species, like the former, is only a train of sy Hog-isms n- 
bridged, into which it may easily be resolved in the following man- 
ner. 

All thinking substances are spirits ; 

The mind is a thinking substance ; 

Therefore, the mind is a spirit. 

Spirits have no extension ; 

The mind is a spirit ; 

Therefore, the mind has no extension. 

Things having no extension have no parts , 
The mind has no extension ; 
Therefore, the mind has no parts. 

Things having no parts are indissoluble ; 
The mind has no parts ; 
Therefore, the mind is indissoluble. 

Things indissoluble are immortal ; 
The mind is indissoluble ; 
Therefore, the mind is immortal. 

Analysis. Here also it appears, that all the intermediate prdnosi 
lions between the first and the last of a sorites may be formed into 
separate syllogisms ; and that it is equivalent to an argument formed 
of as many syllogisms, as the argument contains intermediate propo- 
rtions. It may also be observed, that every idea of the sorites is 
twice repeated, and that it might be farther abridged without anj 
detriment to the evidence it communicates, Had it stood as fol- 
lows, the agreement of its ideas would have been as clear, and its 
evidence as satisfactory, as in any other form. Mind — thinking 
substance — spirit — without extension — without parts — indissoluble 
— immortal. 

574. Ground of reasoning by Induction. We come now 
to that kind of argument which Logicians call induction ; in 
order to the right understanding of which, it will be neces- 
sary to observe, that our general ideas are for the most part 
capable of various subdivisions. 

Jllus. Thus, the idea of the lowest species may be subdivided into 
its several individuals ; the idea of any genus into the different 
species it comprehends; and so of the rest. If then we suppose 
this distribution to be duly made, and so as to take in the whole ex- 
tent of the idea to which it belongs, then it is plain that all tiie sub- 
divisions or parts of any idea taken together constitute that whole 
idea. Thus the several individuals of any species taken together 
constitute the whole specie:;, and all the various species comnre- 

'24 



270 J2 Grammar of Logic, book iv, 

hended under any genus make up the whole genus. This being 
allowed, it is apparent, that whatsoever may be affirmed of all the 
several subdivisions and classes of any idea ought to be affirmed of 
the whole general idea to which these subdivisions belong. What 
may be affirmed of all the individuals of any species ; may be affirm- 
ed of the whole species ; and what may be affirmed of all the spe- 
cies of any genus, may also be affirmed of the whole genus ; be- 
cause all the individuals taken together are the same with the 
species ; and all the species taken together the same with the genus. 

575. The form and structure of an argument by induction. 
This way of arguing, where we infer universally concerning 
any idea, what we had before affirmed or denied separately 
of all its several subdivisions and parts, is called reasoning 
by induction. 

Example. Thus, if wc suppose the whole tribe of animals subdi- 
vided into men, beasts, birds, insects, and fishes, and then reason 
concerning them after this manner : 

All men have a power of beginning motion ; 
All beasts, birds, and insects have a power of beginning mo- 
tion ; 
All fishes have a power of beginning motion ; 
Therefore, all animals have a power of beginning- motion. 
The argument is an induction. When the subdivisions are just, 
so as to take in the whole general idea, and the enumeration is per- 
fect, that is, extends to all and to every one of the inferior classes 
or parts, there the induction is complete, and the manner of reason- 
ing by induction is apparently conclusive. 

576. The ground of argumentation in a dilemma. A di- 
lemma is an argument by which we endeavour to prove the 
absurdity or falsehood of some assertion. 

Illus. In order to this we assume a conditional proposition, the 
antecedent of which is the assertion to be disproved, and the con- 
sequent a disjunctive proposition, enumerating all the possible sup- 
positions upon which that assertion can take place. If then it ap- 
pears that all these several suppositions ought to be rejected, it is 
plain that the antecedent or assertion itself must be so too. When 
therefore such a proposition as that before-mentioned is made the 
major of any syllogism, if the minor rejects all the suppositions con- 
tained in the consequent, it follows necessarily that the con- 
clusion ought to reject the antecedent, which, as we have said, is 
the very assertion to be disproved. This particular way of arguing 
is that which logicians call a. dilemma,- and from the account here 
given of it, it appears that we may in general define it to be an hy- 
pothetical syllogism -cohere the consequent of the major is a disjunctive 
proposition, ivldch is wholly taken atvay or removed in.the minor. 

Example. Of this kind is the following : 

If God did not create the world perfect in its kind, it must either 
proceed from want of inclination, or from want of power; 



-,iAi>.iv. Of Reasoning and Syllogism. 271 

But it could not proceed either from want of inclination or 

from w ant of power. 
Therefore, God created the world perfect in its kind, Or, which 

is the same thing, it is absurd to say that, he did not create 

the world perfect in its kind. 

577. Jin universal description of a dilemma. The nature 
(hen of a dilemma is universally this. The major is a con- 
ditional proposition, whose consequent contains all the sev- 
eral propositions upon which the antecedent can take place. 
As therefore these suppositions are wholly removed into 
the minor, it is evident that the antecedent must be so too^ 
insomuch that we here always argue from the removal of 
the consequent to the removal of the antecedent. That is, 
a dilemma is an argument in the modus tollens of hypothet- 
ical syllogisms, as logicians love to speak. Hence, it is 
plain, that if the antecedent of the major is an affirmative, 
proposition, the conclusion of the dilemma will be negative . 
but if it is a negative proposition, the conclusion will be affir 
mative. 

578. A dilemma becomes/ 'entity or ineffectual three ways; 
First, When the members of the division are not well oppo- 
sed, or not fully enumerated, ; for then the major is false. 
Secondly, When what is asserted concerning each part is 
not just ; for then the minor is not true. Thirdly, When it 
may be retorted with equal force upon him who utters it. 

Example. There was a famous ancient instance of this case, 
wherein a dilemma was retorted. Euathlus promised Protagorus a 
reward when he had taught him the art of pleading, and it was to be 
paid the first day that he gained any cause In the court. After a con- 
siderable time Protagoras goes to law with Euathlus for the reward., 
and uses this dilemma : 

Either the cause will go on my side, or on yours ; 

If the cause goes on my side, you must pay me according to the 

sentence of the judge ; 
If the cause goes on your side, you must pay me according to 

your bargain ; 
Therefore, whether the cause goes for me or against me, you 
must pay me the reward. 

But Euathlus retorted this dilemma, thus ; 

Either I shall gain the cause or lose it j 
If I gain the cause, then nothing will be due to you according 

to the sentence of the judge ; 
But if 1 lose the cause, nothing will be due to you according to 

my bargain ; 
Therefore, whether I lose or gain the cause 1 , I will not pay 
you, for nothing will be due to you. 
Obs. 1. A dilemma is usually described as though it always prov- 
.■d the absurdity, inconvenience, or unreasonableness orsomc o 



272 A Grammar of Logic. hook v,, 

pinion or practice ; and this is the most common design of it : but 
it is plain, that it may also be used to prove the truth or advantage 
of any thing proposed ; as, in heaven we shall either have desires or 
not; if we have no desires, then we have full satisfaction; if we 
have desires, they shall be satisfied as fast as they rise ; therefore., 
in heaven we shall be completely satisfied. 

2. This sort of argument may be. composed of three or more 
members, and may be called a trilemma. 

579. I cannot dismiss this subject without observing, that 
as there is something very curious and entertaining in the 
structure of a dilemma, so it is a manner of reasoning that 
occurs frequently in mathematical demonstrations. 

Illus. Nothing is more common with Euclid, when about to shew 
the equality of two given figures, or which is the same thing, to 
prove the absurdity of asserting them unequal ; nothing, I say, is 
more common with him than to assume, that if the one is not equal to 
the other, it must be either greater or less : and having destroyed both 
these suppositions, upon which alone the assertion can stand, he 
thence very naturally infers, that the assertion itself is false. Now 
this is precisely the l'easoning of a dilemma, and in every step coin- 
cides with the frame and composition of that argument, as we have 
described it above. 

VII. Of the Merit of Syllogistic Reasoning. 

580. That we may do it no injustice in the course of the 
discussion, it may be necessary to observe, that every syllo- 
gism must not be considered as containing a complete argu- 
ment, or a train of reasoning, if the argument requires more 
than one intermediate idea. One syllogism, on the contra- 
ry, contains only one step of a train of reasoning; and in ar- 
ranging a train of reasoning in the syllogistic form, as many 
.syllogisms must be made as there are steps or comparisons 
in that train. "VVe must also observe that by proceeding in 
this manner, any train of reasoning, in arts, in science, or in 
business, may be converted into syllogisms. These remarks 
may be illustrated by exhibiting the first demonstration of 
the first book of Euclid in this form. 

Illus. The object of the proposition is to prove that, The triangle 
described on the given line AB, by means of the two circles, the 
semi-diameter of each of which is the line AB, is equilateral. From 
the properties of the circle, each of the sides of the triangle is found 
equal to the base, and the inference is drawn necessarily, that all 
the sides are equal. This train of reasoning, expressed by syllo- 
gisms, will stand as follows : 



- 



:'hap. iv. Of Reasoning and Syllogism. 275 

1. All the semi-diameters of the same circle are equal : 

The lines AB, AC*, are semi-diameters of the same circle . 
Therefore, these lines are equal. 

2. All the semi-diameters of the same circle arc equal ; 

The lines BA, BC, are semi-diameters of the same circle ; 
Therefore, these lines are equal. 

3. Whatever things are equal to the same thing-, arc equal to one 

another ; 
The lines AC and BC are equal to the line AB ; 
Therefore, the lines, AC, BC, are equal to one another. 

i Triangles, having 1 their sides equal, are called equilateral ; 
The triangle ABC has all its sides equal ; 
Therefore, it is equilateral. 

581. Now, the 'joint to be investigated is, Whether the 
syllogistic method -of exhibiting this -demonstration, or any 
other train of reasoning, is preferable to that adopted by Eu- 
clid, or to the method which places the successive ideas in 
the nearest juxta- position, and expresses them in the few- 
est and plainest words. 

Illus. From the example which we have given, it will appeal - , 
that the syllogistic form is not nearly so concise as that of Euclid ; 
for all the ideas of Euclid's demonstration are expressed in one half 
of the words which are requisite to constitute these four syllogisms. 
Even Euclid's manner of expression is copious and full ; and the 
evidence of his demonstration would not perhaps have been impair- 
ed, had he communicated it as follows. The semi-diameters AB 
and AC, of the one circle, are equal • the semi-diameters of AB and 
BC, of the other circle, are equal also ; therefore, the triangle is 
equilateral, and described on the given line. 

582. But, besides being more prolix, the syllogistic me- 
thod adds no light to the evidence by which the ideas of the 
train of reasoning are perceived, which light the ideas pos- 
sess not in their natural state of juxta -position. Every syl- 
logism consists of three terms, and the reasoner must have 
discovered the middle term, and observed the agreement of 
it, with the extreme-., before hi can form the terms into a 
syllogism. After the syllogism is formed, the mind acquires 
no satisfaction from the contemplation of it, which the terms 
did not suggest in the state of juxta-position. 

Illus. Suppose we were to prove, that Socrates was content with 
his condition, because lie was a wise man ; v- ■ should have three 
terms, of which a syllogism may be formed, an ! which in their na- 
tural order would stand thus: Socrates — a wise man — content with 
his condition. We affirm, that the agreement between Socrates 

* See the figure in Simson's Euclid. 

24* 



%74 A Grammar of Logic. book i\. 

and contentment, is as obvious and satisfactory in the simple juxta 
position of the terms, as it is after these terms are formed into the 
following" syllog'ism : 

All wise men are content with their condition ; 

Socrates was a wise man ; 

Therefore, Socrates was content with his conditio]}. 

583. Farther, as the syllogistic form communicates ho 
additional light, so neither does it assist in discovering mid- 
dle terms. The principal operations of any investigation, 
are the invention of intermediate ideas, and the comparison 
of them, with one another, and with the extremes. The in- 
vention of middle terms, is the chief operation ; and excel- 
lence in it, is the most important cpialification any inquirer 
can possess. It seems to depend on natural sagacity and 
acuteness, fortified and improved by exercise. From syl- 
logism, in particular, no aid can be derived. It does not 
even pretend to give any aid. Its only object is to assist in 
the second operation, the comparison of ideas ; and we have 
seen that the syllogistic exhibition is not more perspicuous 
than the natural one. 

584. But the most singular phenomenon of syllogism is, 
that the conclusion is often a self-evident proposition, some- 
times even trifling and insignificant. The discussion of this 
point will unfold the whole mystery and merit of the me- 
thod. 

nius. In converting a train of ideas into the syllogistic form, there 
must be made as many syllogisms as there are steps or comparisons 
in the train, and as many as there are ideas in the train, except one. 
Each idea of the train beginning- with the second, is the major term 
of its respective syllog'ism ; the other two terms of the same syllo- 
gism are, one a genus, and the other a species of that genus. The 
major term is compared first with the one, and then with the other, 
and must be found either to agree or disagree with both. 

Example. Take, for example, the train of reasoning formerly 
mentioned. {Art. 573.) Human mind — thinking substance im- 
material — indissoluble — immortal, and convert it into syllogisms. 

First. Whatever perceives, judges, and reasons, is a thinking sub- 
stance ; 
The human mind perceives, judges, and reasons ; 
Therefore, the human mind is a thinking substance. 
Analysis. In this syllogism, the major term, " Thinking sub- 
stance," and the second idea of the train, is compared with the 
genus, "whatever perceives, judges, and reasons," in the first pre 
misc, and is found to agree with it. The same major term is com- 
pared again with the species, " the human mind," in the conclusion, 
and is found also to agree with it. Now, the genus, " whatever peiv 



..hap. iv. Of Reasoning and Syllogism. 275 

ceives, judges and reasons," the species, " the mind of man," and 
' thinking 1 substance," are all the terms of this syllogism. 
Secondly. Whatever thinks is immaterial ; 
The human mind thinks ; 
Therefore, the human mind is immaterial. 
. lnalysis. " Immaterial," the third idea of the train, and the major 
;erm of this syllogism, is comparedfirst with the genus, " whatever 
thinks," and next with the species, " the human mind," and is 
found to agree with both. 

Thirdly. Whatever is immaterial is indissoluble ; 
The mind of man is immaterial ; 
Therefore, the mind of man is indissoluble. 

. lnalysis. " Indissoluble," the fourth idea of the train, and the 
major term of this syllogism, is compared first with the genus, 
'"' whatever is immaterial," and next with the species, " the- mind of 
man," and is found to agree with both. 

Fourthly. Whatever is indissoluble is immortal ; 
The mind of man is indissoluble ; 
Therefore, the mind of man is immortal. 
Analysis. " Immortal," the last idea of the train, and the major 
':erm of this syllogism, is compared first with the genus, " whatever 
is indissoluble," and then with the species, " the mind of man," and 
is found to agree with both. 

585. From these examples it appears, that the major 
term of every syllogism is one of the ideas of the train, be- 
ginning with the second; that the minor term of every 
syllogism is the first idea of the train ; and that the middle 
term of every syllogism is a genus of the minor. The syl- 
logisms which we have formed are all of the first figure ; but 
this circumstance is no objection against the remarks which 
we have to make, because all the other figures and modes 
proceed on the same principle j namely, the comparison of 
the major term, first, with the genus of the minor, and, next, 
with the minor as a species : or the syllogisms of the other 
figures may be reduced to those of the first in which these 
conditions take place. 

586. What, then, is the mystery of this mighty syllogistic 
art, which has so long engaged the attention of learned men, 
and is still accounted by many of that description to contain 
something meritorious, or to be an analysis of the art of rea- 
soning? It is no more than this, " Whatever agrees with 
any genus, will agree with every species of that genus ; or 
whatever disagrees with any genus, will disagree with eve- 
species of that genus." If this be the principle of the art, 
can we wonder at the self-evidence of all the conclusions of 



2r6 A Grammar of Logic. book iv, 

all its syllogisms, or that it never gratified science or busi- 
ness with the discovery of any useful truth. 

587. When we reflect how genus and species are formed, 
it is impossible but what agrees or disagrees with the one, 
must agree or disagree with the other. What is a genus ? 
It is a collection of all the qualities common to the species- 
it includes. What agrees, then, with the common qualities 
of any species, must agree with the species itself, as far as 
these qualities extend ; and syllogism carries the agree- 
ment of the major term, with the minor and middle terms, 
no farther than these qualities. What agrees with the ge- 
nus must agree with the species ; it is only an agreement 
with the same thing in different situations ; the major term a 
grees or disagrees with perfectly the same qualities, in the 
genus, with which it agrees or disagrees in the species. 

Carol. Hence, it appears, that after finding - the agreement of the 
major term with the genus of the minor term, the conclusion, which 
asserts the agreement of the major term with the species, or the 
minor term itself, must be self-evident. To arrange things into spe- 
cies and genera, is extremely convenient for the purposes of lan- 
guage, and some of the purposes of philosophy ; hut to pretend to 
reason from the one to the other, seems to be the quintessence of 
vanity or folly. 

588. Examine any demonstration of Euclid, any investi- 
gation of morals, politics, or affairs of common life, and you 
will find, that no man in earnest reasons from a genus to a 
species. 

Ilhis. 1. A mathematical demonstration consists of the comparison 
of quantities of the same species; figures are compared with fig- 
ures ; angles with ang-les ; and lines with lines. 

2. A.n inquiry concerning justice or charity, compares these vir- 
tues with the principles of* reason, equity, the laws of the commu- 
nity, and the situations of persons. 

3. A process in the arts refers to the theory of the art, and to the 
example of the most reputable and successful practitioners. 

589. It is of little consequence to maintain, that the syl- 
logistic art sometimes makes its way into the most serious 
business, and that every indictment for a crime, for instance, 
is a syllogism ; of which the major premise contains the des- 
cription of the crime, and its punishment appointed by the 
law ; the minor premise, the application of the law to the 
case of the criminal ; and the conclusion, an assertion that 
the criminal merits the punishment appointed bv the law. 

Ilhts, 1. That an indictment stands in the form of a syllogism, no 



chXp. iv. Of Reasoning and Syllogism. "277 

doubt can exist. The major term is the punishment ; the crime 
committed is the minor term and the species ; the description oi' 
the crime in the law is the middle term and the genus. 

Corol. The major term, or the punishment, agrees with. the genus, 
or the law ; and it agrees also, perhaps, with the minor term and the 
species, or the crime of the prisoner. But there is not here, strictly 
speaking - , any reasoning*. 

Illus. 2. Atrial is no more than a scrutiny, whether a particular 
crime is included under a general law, or whether the indictment ac- 
cords with truth, when it asst rts, that the prisoner, in taking- away 
the property or the life of his fellow-creature, has committed tin 
crime oi theft or murder, of which crimes the perpetrators arc declar- 
ed by the law to deserve punishment. 

Corol. There is no more reasoning - in this case, than in every ap- 
plication ofthe principles of science to the particular cases they in- 
clude. 

Illus. 3. The assertion, that a particular field consists of a certain 
number of acres, is equally a syllogism with an indictment charg- 
ing a culprit with the commission of a crime punishable by law. 

Kxample. The number of acres, suppose ten, is the major term ; 
the length and breadth of the fields, is the minor term and the species ; 
he number of acres of which all fields of the length and breadth of 
the one under consideration consists, is the middle term and the ge- 
nus. The major term, ten acres, agrees with the dimensions of all 
fields ofthe extent of the one under consideration ; it agrees also 
with the dimensions of the one under consideration ; and, therefore, 
it agrees both with the genus and the species ofthe syllogism. 

Conclusion. 

But though the syllogistic method be nugatory and insignificant 
as an instrument of reasoning, it possesses high merit as an engine 
of wrangling and controversy. It was the happiest contrivance 
that could have been devised for conducting those public disputa- 
tions and comparative trials, which for ages prevailed in Europe, and 
in which the discovery of truth was no part of the ambition of the 
combatants. The most ready and acute framer of syllogisms was 
sure to retire triumphant. The grand contest was not whether the 
syllogism contained any useful truth. The object of one party was 
to maintain its legitimacy ; ot the other, to controvert or deny one 
of its propositions. Wrangling thus became a science; and the 
mind of man, apparently enthusiastic in the discovery of truth and 
knowledge, never wandered farther from their paths. 



THE PHILOSOPHY OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 
CHAPTER I. 

HUMAN KNOWLEDGE ADDRESSED TO THE MEMORY. 

590. 'In Art. 464. lllus. we inquired generally, what 
knowledge is ; but it is now necessary to shew that all hu- 
man knowledge is conceived to consist of sciences and 
arts, between which it is difficult to nk the distinction with 
accuracy; and accordingly, we sometimes find the same 
branch of knowledge denominated, promiscuously, a science 
and an art. All the principles of science have some refer- 
ence to practice, and the theory of every art may merit the 
appellation of a science. 

Ilhis. 1. Some difference, however, there, is between them, which, 
as far as it is of any importance, may be characterized m the fol- 
lowing - manner : A science is a system of general truths relative to 
some branch of useful knowledge, and supported by evidence, 
cither demonstrative or highly probable. An akt is che application 
of the organs of the body, or the faculties of the mind, to the execu- 
tion of some design, directed by the best principles and rules of 
practice. 

2. A science is addressed entirely to the understanding ; an akt 
generally occupies both the understanding and the members of the 
body. A science is acquired by study alone ; an art cannot be ac- 
quired without much practice of the operations it contains. Accu- 
rate knowledge is all that is necessary in science ; eminence in art 
demands, besides, an acquaintance with l'ules, and the habit of dex- 
trous and ready performance. 

591. Human knowledge divides itself into three great 
compartments, adapted to the memory, the understanding, 
and the imagination. To the memory may be addressed. 
history ; to the understanding, philosophy ; and to the, 

IMAGINATION, POETRY. 



6hap. t. Philosophy of Human Knowledge. 279 

Obs. 1. These words, history, philosophy, poetry, taken in their 
most extensive meanings, may comprehend every branch of human 
Icnowlcdcrc 

Illus 1 Under history are included all facts relative to nature 
or society, of which we can obtain intelligence, and which we can 

commit to record. .,„.'* ,.- • !• +„ 

2 Under philosophy, is contained all information relative to 
gdencee or arts, attainable by the exercise of the understanding, or 
by experience and practice. 

3 Under poetry, are implied all those branches of knowledge, 
which in any form contribute chiefly to engage or interest the ima- 
gination. . , . x . . „ 

Obs 2 These great divisions will be perceived to run into one 
another, because different branches of knowledge are generally ad- 
dressed to more of those faculties than one. 

592. History is divided into three parts, SacrecL Civil, 
and Natural. 

Illus S 4cred history comprehends the narrative parts of revela- 
tion and the history of the church, commonly called Ecclesiastical 
History ; embracing the history of the Jews, botli political and eccle- 
siastical ; the history the propagation and progress of Christianity, as 
far as they were carried on bv Jesus Christ, and his immediate suc- 
cessors the apostles ; and the history of the Christian churches, from 
the rera of the apostles to the present time. 

593. Civil, or, as some writers call it profane history, in 
opposition to sacred, contains an account of the govern- 
ments, and of the civil and military transactions of nations; 
and displays those great exhibitions of human nature, which 
the preservation of the happiness of large communities of 
men, and the convulsions of societies, frequently produce. 

Illus The most instructive lessons in morality and in politics, 
those most useful sciences, which provide for the felicity and comfort 
of individuals and nations, are presented to our view in civil history. 
It recounts the noble deeds of the patriot and the hero, and insinu- 
ates, by their example, the most salutary instruction, while it holds 
forth the cruelty of the oppressor, or the irregularities and crimes of 
bad men, as the causes of their misery. All civilized nations have 
exhibited specimens of their progress in this branch of knowledge. 
594. Another branch of civil, is literary history : or de- 
tails of the origin and progress of learning, with the revolu- 
tions it has undergone in different ages and situations. 
Though the incidents of this branch are not. so splendid as 
those Of the former, they arc entitled to regard. 

Illus. Civil history displays the qualities of the statesman and the 
warripr. Literary history unfolds the productions of the imagina- 
tion, of the heart, and of the understanding, and illustrates the ef- 
fects of external circumstances, in calling forth, or repressing the 
exertions of the man of genius, and of the philosopher. Next to 



.'280 A Grammar of Logic. book v. 

provision for the safety and happiness of individuals and communi- 
ties, the most meritorious objects of general attention, are those 
pursuits which advance the character of human nature, and promote 
its civilization, its refinement, and its dignity. 

595. Profane history includes farther, memoirs, annals, 
biography, and is intimately connected with a?itiquities, 
chronology and geography. 

Illus. A memoir is a familar narration, in which the author attempts 
not the profound discussion, nor the dig-nity of style employed by 
the historian. The writer of memoirs presents a simple and plain 
relation of facts, and leaves reflections and comments to the reader. 

Obs. A work of this sort, executed with ability, possesses many 
attractions, sufficient to gain admirers. It is generally more cir- 
cumstantial, and more picturesque than regular history, and by ad- 
mitting the reader into more intimate familiarity with the author, 
communicates instruction with the ease of conversation, without 
assuming the austere, and less pleasant tone of teaching. 

596. Annals are a history constructed in the form of a 
journal, and bind it sometimes so closely in the trammels of 
chronology, that the author cannot depart from the order of 
time, nor anticipate any part of his narrative, to connect the 
several incidents of an event. The transactions that occur 
within the year must appear in their proper places; and if 
the events extend over several years before their completion, 
their annual portions are detached and related apart. 

Obs. The annalist seldom attempts to throw much interest into 
his work, or to convey any knowledge besides a distinct and accu- 
rate view of facts. He seldom endeavours to adorn his relation, or 
to interweave in it moral or political information. He undertakes 
the humble task of delineating with accuracy the naked facts, and 
leaves the historian to embellish them. He is properly the pioneer 
of the historian, and contributes greatly to shorten his labour, and 
to accelerate his progress. 

Example. Botli Thucydides and Tacitus have given to their high- 
ly finished histories the form, and the latter even the name, of an- 
nals. Thucydides imposed harder conditions upon himself than are 
demanded by the rigid rules of annals. His narrative is divided 
into periods of half a year, and he scruples not to mince his trans- 
actions into fragments, to make them correspond to this minute 
distribution of his time. The annals of Scotland, published by Sir 
Dav ; d Dalrymple, realize the idea we have given of this species of 
writing. 

597. Biography records the lives of eminent individu- 
als, and is susceptible of much interest, as the personages 
may be selected from any order S society — They may he 
men of letters, of pleasure, of business- — They may be king?, 
statesmen, politicians, artists, warriors. 



«hap. i. Philosophy of Human Knowledge,. ^28 L 

Obs. The relation of their lives may comprehend entertaining 
strictures on the character and conduct of those with whom they 
have been connected, and important discoveries into the history of 
the times in which they have lived. 

598. Antiquities, Chronology, and Geography, are 
the handmaids of history. 

599. Antiquities contain discussions concerning moan 
merits, political, military, sepulchral, or etymological, that 
transcend the limits of history, and relate to events, cus- 
toms, or opinions, about which no other documents exist. 
The early transactions of all nations are involved in obscu- 
rity, because the composition and preservation of record? 
hardly appear but in an advanced state of civilization. 
There is, however, in mankind, a desire to perpetuate the 
memory of important events, as well as to investigate the 
meaning of manners, practices, and opinions, the origin of 
which is obscure. Hence stones, and coins, and columns, 
the most durable materials with which men are acquainted 
before the use of writing, are naturally selected to gratify 
this desire. 

Obs. The most important branch, however, of antiquities, relates 
to the obscurities of history, manners, and laws. " Antiquitates," says 
Lord Bacon in this sense, " historic deformatae sunt, sive reliquiae 
historic, qux casu e naufrag-io temporum erepta; sunt." Without 
some knowledge of antiquities, neither old laws, nor many impor- 
tant usages in languages, in the affairs of nations, and in public rites 
and ceremonies, can be understood. The explanation of these is 
grateful to numerous individuals, and productive of useful discove- 
ries, relative to titles, to honours, and to property. 

600. Chronology assigns to events, the order of time in 
which they happened, and therefore without it a relation of 
facts must be a mass of confusion, which the memory can- 
not retain, nor the understanding apply to any useful pur- 
pose. Chronology forms into a system the transactions of 
nations, and distinguishes the progress of science, of man- 
ners and of arts. The revolutions of the heavenly bodies 
are allowed to be the best, and the most universal measures 
of time ; but the practice of observing these revolutions 
with accuracy is of late acquisition, and appears not till con- 
siderable progress has been made in mathematics and astro- 
nomy. 

Obs. The chronology of ancient history, is, for this reason, not a 
little imperfect, because it is difficult to reduce to any fixed point 
the xras from which the authors reckon. Even the commencement 
of the Olympiads, and the building of Rome, are not perfectly de- 

25 



282 j2 Grammar of Logic. book v. 

termined ; while the chronology of the Jews, and of the early 
Greeks, is hardly supported by better evidence than conjecture. 

Illus. The chronology, then, of history, is ascertained for a period, 
extending backward two thousand six hundred years from the com- 
mencement of the Olympiads, (about eight hundred years before 
the birth of Christ), to the present time. The only -written records 
which exist previous to the commencement of the Olympiads, are 
the books of the Old Testament; and as the authors either could 
not, or did not fix their chronology, many systems have been form- 
ed to supply that defect. The most rational and satisfactory of 
these systems is that advanced by Sir Isaac Newton. 

601. As the design of Chronology is to determine the 
time, the purpose of Geography is to fix the place of the 
transactions recorded in history. Geography exhibits in 
miniature the positions of all the places on the surface of 
the globe, with their bearings or relative situations. It 
brings the surface of the earth in some measure under the 
eye of the spectator, and communicates a more perfect idea 
of its form, and of its parts, than could be conveyed by an 
actual survey. 

Mus. It is commonly divided into two parts, general and particu- 
lar. The former treats of the figure of the earth, and the theory of 
winds, tides, and currents. Particular geography, delineates the 
situations of kingdoms, cities, rivers, mountains, coasts, and seas. 
"When the situations of these are understood, the reader more easily 
comprehends the transactions of which these form the field ; the 
marches and operations of armies ; the navigations and encounters 
of fleets ; the effects of climate, and the produce of soils. 

602. The third branch of history is termed Natural,_ 
and includes a large field of knowledge, both useful and en- 
tertaining; especially as it comprehends an account of all 
the phenomena in the heavens, and the productions on the 
earth, which are, or which may be the objects of our senses, 
together with the changes that may be made on these pheno- 
mena and productions by physical causes, or the means of 
art. This part of natural history, which Lord Bacon calls 
Narrative, addresses itself to the memory. The use which 
may be made of it, by induction, towards ascertaining the 
laws of nature, belongs to natural philosophy and chemistry. 

Obs. Natural History, then, in this view, is divided into two 
branches, one containing the productions of nature, whether ordina- 
ry and regular, or extraordinary and monstrous ; and the other, the 
productions of art. The natural historian, recounts every fact and 
circumstance relative to these productions. 

603. The productions of nature are divided into 1 
those of the heavens, those of the atmosphere, and those of 
the earth. 



ohap. i. Philosophy of Human Knowledge. 283 

604. The productions of the heavens are the pheno- 
mena of the solar system, and of the fixed stars. The phse- 
nomena of the solar system are numerous and brilliant; 
those of the fixed stars scarce contain more particulars than 
their names and positions. The phenomena of the solar 
system are copiously recorded by several popular writers, 
particularly by Keil, Fergusson, Vince, La Place, and 
Herschel; and from them it appears, that much progress 
has been made by the moderns in this cHrious branch of 
knowledge, beyond what was attained by the ancients. 

Obs. The Ptolemic system, which placed the earth in the centre, 
was generally received by the ancients ; but it was reserved for 
Newton, in the end of the seventeenth century, to apply to the true 
system which places the sun in the centre, the most enlightened 
theory ever devised by the mind ofcman ; and to establish it by evi- 
dence, which leaves no doubt of its truth, while it communicates 
such ample information, as scarcely permits a desire to know more 
on the subject. (See my Edition of Adams's Elements of Useful 
Knowledge, Book II.) 

605. The phenomena of the atmosphere relate to 
the elasticity, the altitude, and weight of the air; to mete- 
ors, lightning, thunder, clouds, aurora borealis, snow, hail, 
rain ; to the reflection arid refraction of the rays of the 
sun, the rainbow, evaporation, dews, winds, &c. all which 
form curious and interesting subjects of investigation ; and 
of the greater part of which modern philosophy has collected 
the history, and has endeavoured to ascertain the theory. 
(See Books IV. and V. of Adams's Elements of Useful 
Knowledge, Fifth Edition.) 

606. The phenomena of the earth relates to its fig- 
ure, to its division into land and water, and to the produc- 
tions which are found above and below its surface. 

Jllus. 1. Its spherical figure first merits attention, which, though 
contrary to appearance, and to the opinions of the vulgar, yet is so 
completely established by physical arguments and experiments, 
that no doctrine in philosophy is better supported. 

2. Its division into land and water next attracts curiosity, and the 
large proportion which the surface of the water bears to that of the 
land. 

3. The most remarkable phenomena of the water are the tides 
and currents, together with the innumerable varieties of animals 
and vegetables to which it affords life. 

607. With regard to land, the first phenomena which 
summon observation, are the figures of the two great contin- 
ents, extending far, from south to north, and affording many 



284 A Grammar of Logic. book. v> 

varieties of climates, of soils, and of productions ; the direc- 
tion and magnitude of rivers; the extent, the altitude, and 
the figure of mountains ; the great lakes of fresh water, the 
sands and rocks with which they are interspersed. 

608. The situations and figures of islands next attract 
our notice, with their immense distances from one another, 
and afford curious and interesting inquiries concerning the 
manner in which they have been replenished with the ani- 
mals and vegetables they contain. 

Obs. All these phenomena belong to the geographer to recount 
and to explain ; those we shall enumerate fall within the province 
of the natural historian. 

609. The Natural Historian divides the productions of 
the earth into animals, vegetables, and minerals. 

Illus. 1. Under animals he comprehends all living creatures, from 
man to the meanest insect; and of every species he attempts to de- 
liver the history, as far as observation or information can afford him 
materials. 

2. From animals, the natural historian proceeds to vegetables. He 
examines, and reduces into classes, all the plants which the earth 
produces. 

3. From the surface, he descends into the bowels of the earth, 
examines the nature and position of the strata of which it is compo- 
sed, and all the varieties of minerals which it presents to his ob- 
servation. But natural historians have too often spent their time in 
idle disputes about classification, rather than in adding to the gene- 
ral stock of knowledge, and enlarging our acquaintance with the 
objects that exist. 

Obs. The history of nature is, for these reasons, far from being 
complete ; and the whole theory of general principles, which Lord 
Bacon calls the inductive part, and which he declares was totally 
wanting in his time, may still be affirmed to have advanced but a 
small space. 

610. The history of the mechanic arts, or of those ex- 
periments and operations which are performed on the ma- 
terials furnished by nature, forms the last branch of know- 
ledge addressed to the memory. 

^Obs. 1. The phenomena of the fine arts will be better introduced 
under the branch addressed to the imagination. 

2. It is vain in this volume to attempt a specification of the ope- 
rations of the mechanic or useful arts. The materials about which 
they are exerted, are almost as numerous and various as are the dif- 
ferent substances and combinations of substances which this earth 
presents. Should you desire more accurate information you will 
have recourse to the works that treat exclusively on those arts, or 
to the practitioners who can give you, in one half hour, a better in- 
sight into any particular art, than from books you could gain in the 
half of a year. 



chap. ii. Philosophy of Human Knowledge. 285 



CHAPTER II. 

HUMAN KNOWLEDGE— ADDRESSED TO THE UNDER 
STANDING. 

611. Human knowledge as addressed to the under- 
standing, is more extensive than that addressed to the me- 
mory, as it comprehends all the sciences, and the theories of 
all the arts. If we divide it according to its objects, it will 
resolve itself into two departments, the knowledge of mind, 
and the knowledge of body. 

Obs. This division would be very convenient, if mind and body 
were always found disunited, or were we not frequently obliged to 
contemplate them conjointly. But in all inquiries concerning- hu- 
man nature and human acquisitions, which constitute a large portion 
of this department of knowledge, mind and body are connected by 
the closest relations, and must be surveyed and examined in that 
compounded state. We are necessitated, for this reason, to adopt 
another division, more adapted to the actual arrangement of the 
objects in nature ; and to consider knowledge as referring to mind 
unconnected with body, or to mind and body connected, or to body 
unconnected with mind. In other words, to consider it as referring- 
to God and spirits, to man and human nature, to iiTational animals, 
to vegetables, and to inanimate matter. 

612. Of the ivorld of spirits we know nothing, except 
what we learn from the experience of the operations of our 
minds, and from the general analogy which we are apt to in- 
fer subsists among spirits of all orders. 

Obs. Between us and the great Spirit that made the universe, 
whom we cannot suppose to have any connection with matter, there 
may be, for any thing we know, infinite gradations of spirits, who 
may be more or less connected with body, according to their eleva- 
tion in the scale of being. But of their natures, their endowments, 
their predilections, or their antipathies, we are altogether ignorant, 
and perhaps incapable of receiving information. 

613. We are no less ignorant of the nature of the first 
Spirit, particularly of what are called his incommunicable 
attributes, self existence, eternity, omnipotence, and infini- 
ty. Though we must admit that these attributes constitute 
ingredients of the character of a perfect being, yet what the 
ingredients are, we can now form no adequate conception ; 
and perhaps we never shall be competent to the task. The 
moral attributes of the Almighty, goodness, mercy, judg- 
ment, and veracity, are more adapted to human comprehen- 

25* 



286 Ji Grammar of Logic. book. v. 

sion, and form the ground-work of all the science we de-> 
duce from his nature. 

Obs. We possess, indeed, no adequate idea even of these attri- 
butes ; but theologians have deemed it fair to presume, that these 
attributes resemble in quality, though very different in degree, the 
virtues which are distinguished by the same names among men. 
The delineation of the doctrines and principles which result from 
these attributes, forms the science of natural relig'ion, and part of 
the science of metaphysics. 

614. Natural religion comprehends the proofs for the 
existence of God, which result from the order, the beauty, 
and the design conspicuous in the works of nature. We 
cannot controvert the reality of these qualities, nor suppose 
that the works of nature came into existence without a caure. 
No other solution can be admitted, than that they origina- 
ted from some great, good, and wise Being, who made all 
beings, and who governs all nature; who can act from no 
motive, and upon no system, which embrace not general 
happiness; who has aright to command the obedience of 
every creature, and in obeying whom only a rational agent 
can expect happiness. 

Obs. The metaphysical part of knowledge relative to God, con- 
tains discussions concerning the necessity of his existence, inde- 
pendence, infinity, eternity, omnipotence, which are usually reckon- 
ed a branch of Pneumatics. All these topics have been often and 
fully canvassed, and little now remains to be advanced upon them. 
The pneumatical branch, in particular, has afforded ample field for 
profound investigation, in which several writers of bold genius have 
indulged themselves in speculations, which transcend, perhaps, the 
compass of human powers, and which, therefore, should be relin- 
quished as unprofitable. But they deserve a more severe censure, 
if they contribute, as they sometimes do, to controvert the princi- 
ples of truth, and to defend the cause of scepticism. 

615. The branches of knowledge relative to man, respect 
(Athev the faculties of his mind, or the use he makes of these 
faculties, first, in acquiring and communicating knowledge, 
and, secondly, in acquiring happiness. The science which 
explains the faculties is a branch of Pneumatics ; the scien- 
ces which teach the modes of acquiring and communicating 
Imowledge, are denominated Logic and Rhetoric ; and the 
science which delineates the road to happiness, has obtained 
the name of Morality. 

616. Pneumatics form a general history of the faculties 
of the mind. The exertions of these faculties constitute the 
sciences of logic, rhetoric, and morali'y. 

Obs. Pneumatics., and these sciences, for this reason, run into 



chap, ii. Philosophy of Human Knowledge, 287 

©ne another ; and in general views of human knowledge, it is unne- 
cessary and inconvenient to contemplate them apart. We shall, 
therefore, proceed to the latter sciences, the survey of which will 
afford a place for exhibiting every thing valuable in the science of 
pneumatics. 

617. Logic, or the art which delineates the progress of 
the understanding in the investigation of truth, contains, as 
we have seen, three parts, the doctrine of ideas, of proposi- 
tions, of reasoning or proof. But on all these we have de- 
livered our opinion pretty fully in the preceding Books, and 
shall not, therefore, now enlarge. 

618. Rhetoric includes, at least presupposes, the arts 
subservient to retention and recollection ; but its proper bu- 
siness is to unfold the art of communication. 

lihis. The arts subservient to retention and recollection, are those 
of writing and printing ; by which general knowledge is accumula- 
ted, present inquirers are made acquainted with the acquisitions of 
preceding ages, and may transmit their stores to posterity. The 
art of communication is conversant about grammar, composition, and 
criticism. 

619. Grammar divides words into classes, and treats of 
their inflections, their syntax, and their prosody. 

620. Composition teaches us to communicate our 
thoughts with perspicuity and proper ornament. 

621. Criticism informs us whether we have been suc- 
cessful. It qualifies us to read with discernment and im- 
provement, and to determine the literary merit of the 
performances we peruse. {See my Grammar of Rhetoric, 
Chap. II. Book V.) 

622. Morality, or the science of happiness, may be divi- 
ded into two great branches, one relative to individuals, and 
the other relative to communities. 

Ilhis. 1. The branch respecting individuals, comprehends many 
important topics of investigation ; namely, that the inhabitants of 
such a compound constitution as is the human, consisting of reason, 
conscience, many passions and appetites, must result from an ar- 
rangement which permits gratification to each of these parts, in 
proportion to its dignity and consequence, and that this arrange- 
ment is recommended by the principles of virtue ; that the laws of 
human conduct are manifestly marked by the nature of man ; and 
that his constitution points out the will of his Creator, with the obli- 
gations to integrity which arise from this will ; that the performance 
of the duties which man owes to his Maker, his neighbour, and him- 
self, is not only dictated by obligation, but also by interest, because, 
in proportion as he deviates from these duties, he deviates from 
happiness ; and that the best man is, and must be the happiest, as 
virtue is the truest wisdom, the best knowledge, and the most solid 



288 Ji Grammar of Logic. book v. 

consolation; while vice is folly, ignorance, and misery! (See 
Chapter XII. Book II. Moral Perception?) 

2. The morality that regards the happiness of communities, con- 
stitutes the science of politics, which resolves itself into three 
branches. 

The first, containing the laws of peace and war, or the rules which 
guide the intercourse of communities, founded on the practice of 
civilized nations, and the dictates of equity. 

The second, delineating the different civil governments which 
have been contrived, or adopted to secure the safety of states, with 
the prosperity and comfort of individuals. 

And the third, exhibiting economical arrangements, or the laws 
which punish crimes, and encourage industry, protect and cherish 
commerce and arts. 

Corol. From the topics which constitute the sciences of morality 
and politics, it appears, that they are of the greatest importance 
both to individuals and communities. As soon, therefore, as human 
nature acquired any degree of refinement, and virtue and industry 
were found to be subservient to its felicity, these sciences could not 
fail to attract the attention both of the man of speculation and the 
man of business. They must have been found to be the best guides 
of the statesman, and of the private citizen. Theories and discus- 
sions concerning them are accordingly discovered in early periods 
of society; to which have been added such copious improvements, 
by the enlightened genius of later times, that few branches of know- 
ledge seem more completely investigated. It is pleasant to think, 
that the mind of man has been adequate to any satisfactory investi- 
gation. In very few sciences has it been more successful. 

623. Human knowledge, relative to body, animated or 
inanimated, is divided into three branches. 

The first, containing the metaphysics of body, or an ac- 
count of its general properties, extension, solidity, impene- 
trability, motion, vacuum, &c. 

The second, regarding the surfaces of bodies, or the com- 
putation of the quantities of which these surfaces consist. 

And the third, respecting the internal parts of bodies, or 
their structure and constitution. Every inquiry relative to 
body must be comprehended under some one of these 
branches. 

Illus. 1. In discussing the metaphysics or general properties of 
body, we discover that extension is an essential quality, and that it 
is the chief quality which distinguishes body from spirit. 

2. We inquire, farther, whether all matter be solid and impenetra- 
ble, that is, whether it resists the entrance of extraneous matter into 
the place it occupies, however impelled by any force ; and we find, 
that though some matter is compressible, yet that all matter resists 
the entrance of extraneous matter into the place it occupies, till it 
be permitted to retire, and that in this sense it is solid and impenetra- 



.- hap. ii. Philosophy of Human Knowledge. 289 

3. We discover, also, that motion is an occasional property of 
body, though it seems incapable of assuming that property to itself. It 
must receive motion from some external power, but when received, it 
retains motion till it is deprived of that property by some other, or by 
the same external power. 

4. We inquire, next, whether all space is filled with matter, or 
whether nature admits a vacuum, that is, space void of body. This 
question has been the cause of long and bitter controversy, one 
sect of philosophers maintaining, that all space is full of matter, and 
that nature abhors a vacuum, which were the sentiments of the Car- 
tesian school ; while the greater part of the followers of Newton 
have embraced the doctrine of a vacuum, and have been of opinion, 
that the phenomena of the air-pump alone are sufficient to establish 
that .doctrine. 

624. The sciences concerned about the surfaces of bodies 
are three, Arithmetic, Geometry, and Natural Philo- 
sophy, which were called by the ancients Mathemata, or 
"the most illustrious knowledge," on account of the impor- 
tance of the truths they contain, and the complete evidence 
by which they are supported. 

Iilus. 1. Arithmetic, which in an extended sense includes algebra, 
is the science of computation. Its civject is quantity discrete, or di- 
vided into pares, aud the design of all its operations is, to ascertain 
the numbers of these parts, as far as the knowledge of them may be 
subservient to the purposes of human hife. 

2. All we can wish to know relative to numbers, is, to determine 
the amount of particular sums of units, which is obtained by the 
operation called addition ; or to ascertain their difference, which is 
performed by the operation called subtraction. 

3. Into these operations, therefore, all the operations of arithme- 
tic and algebra, however intricate and remote, are resolvable. 

4. Multiplication and division are nothing but abridgements of 
addition and subtraction. 

5. Many of the operations of arithmetic and algebra, depend upon 
the doctrine of proportion ; and in all these operations, if three of 
the terms be known, the fourth may be found, by the rule of three 
in arithmetic, or by an algebraic equation. The foundation of both 
methods is, that the product of the extremes is equal to that of the 
wieans. 

.625. The investigations of algebra differ not essentially 
irom those of arithmetic, except in these three particulars. 
Algebraic Investigations proceed by equations, in which the 
quantity sought is included ; they are expressed by letters 
instead of figures; and they may be applied to continuous 
quantity as well as to discrete. 

Illus. In all arithmetical and algebraical questions, something is 
given, and something sought ; or something is known, and some- 
thing unknown. Between these, some ratig may generally be disr 



290 A Gfammar of Logic. book v. 

covered, so that If both the given and the sought quantities be de- 
noted by symbols or letters, an equation may be deduced from that 
ratio, which will involve the value of the unknown quantity. When 
the equation is found, the sequel of the operation is easy ; for it is 
always practicable, by means of addition and subtraction, to place 
the known quantities on one side of the equation, and the unknown 
quantity on the other, from which position its value will be apparent, 

626. The symbols or letters of an equation may express 
either numerical or mathematical quantities ; they may sig- 
nify lines as well as numbers. The addition, then, of two 
letters, may denote the sum of two numbers, or the length 
of two lines ; and the multiplication of two letters may sig- 
nify the product of two numbers, or the rectangle contained 
by two lines. 

Obs. It is this capacity of denoting quantities of all sorts, which 
has procured to algebra the name of universal arithmetic, and from 
its capacity of operating with unknown quantities, as if they were 
known, it has obtained the name of analysis, and has superseded, 
in a great measure, the analytic method of the ancients. 

527. Algebra has been particularly useful in explaining 
the operations of arithmetic, the extraction of roots, and the 
properties of curve lines. '. In all which cases it has commu- 
nicated the most important information, and has facilitated 
exceedingly the progress of science. 

Obs. But the application of it to numerical questions, which was 
the chief use of it previous to the middle of the seventeenth centu- 
ry, was rather a matter of amusement than of utility. Des Cartes 
,first employed it in geometrical questions, since which time it has 
been the favourite mode of investigation. The ancient method of 
analysis may excel it in simplicity and elegance, but in point of ex- 
pedition, and extensive use, in the most difficult physical research- 
es, the resources of algebra are important, audits superiority is de- 
cisive. 

628. The ancient and elegant m ether* of computing con- 
tinuous quantity, or the exten ! of the surfaces and the solidi- 
ty of bodies, is geometky, the science of superficies and of 
solids. The elements of rhis science are divided into three 
parts ; the first, treating of the properties of plain figures ; 
the second, of those of solids ; and the third, of those of the 
curve lines, called Conic Sections. 

Illus. 1. Euclid has discussed the first in his first six books; the 
second, in his eleventh and twelfth ; and Apollonius, the third, in 
his elaborate treatise on the subject. In all these works, the merit 
of the ancient geometers is very great. 

2. The Elements of Euclid, it seems, are the most perfect pro- 
Auctions in science, for all the ingenuity of modern times, has not 



chaf. ii. Philosophy of Human Knowledge. 291 

added to their merit, nor superseded their use. They appear to 
have spiling - nearly as complete and satisfactory from the hands of 
their author, as we still survey them. 

3. The cones of Apollonius display profound knowledge, and 
great industry, hut they are not so finished as the Elements. The 
arrangement of them has been improved, several of the demonstra- 
tions have been abridged and generalized, and many useful corolla- 
ries have been subjoined by the additional attention of modern 
mathematicians. 

Obs. But if we except some progress made in the doctrine of the 
sphere, and of eclipses, by Proclus; in the investigation of the me- 
chanical powers, hydrostatics, and the art of calculating curvilineal 
spaces, from the method of approximation, by Archimedes; we have 
enumerated all the advancements achieved by the ancients in this 
most illustrious of sciences. They had acquired little knowledge 
of mixed mathematics, or the application of them to physical pur- 
poses, now called Natural Philosophy. They knew nothing of the 
true solar system, nor of the laws that direct its motions, which Sir 
Isaac Newton has investigated with so much success and universal 
applause. They knew something of the doctrine of reflected light, 
as we learn from the famous contrivance of Archimedes, for setting* 
fire to the Roman sh'ps at the siege- of Syracuse, by means of burn- 
ing glasses. But they seem to have understood little of the theory 
of optics, and nothing of the curious doctrine of light and colours. 

629. The refined and abstract nature of the higher parts 
of mathematics will prevent them from being objects of gen- 
eral attention ; but all philosophers and artists may, notwith- 
standing, avail themselves of the practical principles they 
present ; and every inquirer who can pretend to the advan- 
tages of a liberal education, should study the elementary 
branches of the Mathematics. 

630. Independent of forming a part of polite education, 
and of the advantage derived from the salutary exercise of 
the reasoning faculty, the study of Euclid demands attention 
on account of the necessary connection which Geometry has 
with many of the common and useful arts. 

Illus. 1. The principles of all sorts of machinery are derived from 
his Elements, together with the laws which direct the most profita- 
ble application of force, whether of animals, of water, or of air. 

2. The art of surveying is an immediate practice of the most sim- 
ple deductions of this science, and of course the arts of delineating 
maps and charts, which convey, in a manner satisfactory and expe- 
ditious, the knowledge of the situations and bearings of places on 
the earth which we have never seen. 

3. The whole theory of longitude and latitude is deduced from the 
same source, without which neither the construction of maps, charts, 
nor globes, could have existed. The face of the earth would have 
remained unknown, as navigation must have been confined to the 
nncient dangerous and circumscribed method of coasting. 



§92- A Grammar of Logic. book v. 

4. The useful and ingenious art of ship-building owes all, or the 
greater part, of its merits to the principles of mathematics. 

5. Fortification and gunnery, these dreadful, but, it seems, neces- 
sary arts, have derived almost all their improvements from the same 
origin. In a word, in whatever light we survey the Elements of 
Euclid, whether as an useful or an ornamental study, they merit 
highly the attention of every person who is ambitious of distin- 
guishing- himself, either as a philosopher, or as a man of business. 

631. The third division of knowledge respecting matter 
explains the branches that regard the nature, the structure, 
and the composition of bodies. 

632. This compartment is subdivided into three parts ; 
first, the general laws or properties of bodies ; secondly, the 
internal structure of animals, with their diseases arill cures ; 
and thirdly, the ingredients or component parts of bodies. 

The first, constitutes the science, or the philosophy of na- 
tural history ; the second, medicine ; and the third, chemis- 
try. We formerly mentioned natural history as a record 
of facts, we now speak of it as a branch of philosophy. 

Obs. Lord Bacon, anxiously and repeatedly recommends the 
study of natural history as necessary to furnish materials for erecting 
the g-reat temple of natural knowledge. The philosopher investi- 
gates, companes, compounds, and separates these materials, till he 
deduces the general laws of agreement and of disagreement among- 
the works of God, and establishes the doctrine of an enlightened 
and a satisfactory science. Lord Bacon himself led the way in this 
new and noble path to fame ; and though the progress of that emi- 
nent inquirer could not be great, yet he had the merit of foreseeing 
and predicting the achievements of posterity. 

633. ,Of the three classes of natural history— animals, 
vegetables, and minerals — that of animals exhibits the most 
illustrious marks of wisdom and design, though the other 
two are not destitute of conspicuous specimens of the same 
qualities. {Art. 609. lllus. 1, 2, 3, and Obs.) 

Obs. 1. Not to mention the instincts, or mental powers which 
all animals possess in some degree, and which man in great emi- 
nence possesses ; their external form, the construction of their bo- 
dies, and the final causes, or uses to which their members are sub- 
servient, display marks of contrivance superior to those found in 
any other classes of the works of nature. 

Illus. 1. Animals possess the power of self-motion, of sensation, 
of seeking and appropriating nourishment. Their organs are more 
complicated, and their changes more rapid, than those of vegeta- 
bles. Some vegetables possess a degree of irritability. They con- 
tract on the application of stimuli. Few, however, are gifted with 
this power, far the greater number being- susceptible of no move- 
ment, except what results from the elasticity of their roots, branch- 
es, and leaves. They have not, like animals, any feeling of pleasure 



chap. ii«- Philosophy of Human Knowledge. 293 

or pain -, and they can only imbibe nourishment from those parts of 
matter with which they are in permanent contact. 

2. But though these differences are conspicuous in the greater 
part of animals and vegetables, yet in the lower species of the form- 
er, and in the higher species of the latter, they in a great measure 
disappear : and it is difficult to determine where the class of ani- 
mals terminates, and that of vegetables beg-ins. The polypus, 
which generates as many animals of its kind, as are the parts into 
which it may be divided, seems not to be endowed with a much 
higher degree of vitality, than that which is possessed by many ve- 
getables. 

3. Both in the animal and vegetable kingdom, the smaller spe- 
cies are more numerous than the larger. Thus, there are many 
more insects than there are men : the plants of grass are more nu- 
merous than the trees; and the number of flies surpasses that of 
horses. 

4. As animals descend to vegetables, so the latter approach mi- 
nerals. Minerals are called inorganized, or inanimate bodies. They 
seem to compose the mass of the globe ; certainly, at least, its ex- 
ternal crust. They increase in volume ; but this seems to arise 
entirely from the juxta-position of parts, and the force of attraction, 
or that assimilating power of nature which generates from different 
combinations of the same materials, parts of such different constitu- 
tions and uses. The ascent of juices in vegetables seems to de- 
pend on the principles by which water rises in capillary tubes. Vege- 
tables grow with a rapidity palpable and conspicuous. In a short 
space of time many of them reach perfection, after which they suf- 
fer decay, and finally dissolution. The growth and decay of mine- 
rals is so slow and imperceptible, as to render it sometimes doubt- 
ful whether they are susceptible of these qualities. Vegetables 
have organs by which they elaborate the nourishment attracted 
from the eartli and the air. Minerals seem to undergo no chang-c 
but what arises from the chemical action of bodies on one another. 

Obs. 2. Commercial intercourse, and voyages of discovery, ad- 
ded to literary peregrinations and correspondence, have left un- 
known to modern naturalists no important region almost on the face 
of the globe, and have communicated very satisfactory accounts of 
the greater part of the countries it contains. The kingdoms of ani- 
mals and plants have been pretty fully investigated, and minerals of 
late have been favoured with a large share of attention. 

634. The second branch of knowledge relative to the struc- 
ture of bodies, is medicine, whose chief object is to explain 
the nature of the human constitution, the diseases to which 
men are liable, and the remedies by which they may be cured. 

Obs. The human body is one of the most curious pieces of me- 
chanism which nature can present, and furnishes a most important 
subject of philosophical investigation ; yet necessity, not curiosity, 
produced the science of medicine, and led to its various improve 
ments. A similar attachment to utility still confines the researches 
of the physician almost entirely to the human body, but there is 
much useful knowledge to be obtained also from an attentive ex~ 

26 



294 Ji Grammar of Logic. book v. 

agination of the structure of other animals, whose organs and vital 
funtions are, in man} 7 respects, analogous to those of man. 

635. The bodies of men, like those of other animals, na- 
turally accommodate themselves to their situation. If ex- 
posed to the severities of climate, if accustomed to exercise, 
and inured to wholesome, though coarse fare, they acquire 
a "firmness of texture and a soundness of constitution, which 
either repel the encroachments of disease, or set its attacks 
at defiance till an advanced age. But when the efforts of 
art pretend to set at defiance the operations of nature ; when 
men attempt to adapt the climate, to the constitution, in- 
stead of accommodating the constitution to the climate, na 
hire makes ample reprisals, and loads with maladies those 
who seek indulgences reprobated by health. The art of me- 
dicine accordingly has been employed chiefly to counteract 
the inroads of luxury, and much ingenuity and industry 
have been exerted to accomplish this important design. 

Obs. 1. The human body has been examined, and all its vital mo- 
tions have been studied with the utmost care. The knife of the 
Anatomist has been sedulously and sometimes successfully employ- 
ed, in investigating the structure and functions of the different 
parts of the body. The effects of thousands of medicines have 
been tried, and the influence of air, exercise, and climate, have been 
observed. Much learning, sagacity, and experience, have been ex- 
erted with assiduity and perseverance, to bring the healing art to 
perfection. 

2. But, notwithstanding the combined industry of ancient and 
modern physicians, the structure and uses of many parts of the body 
are still involved in such impenetrable darkness, that the nature of 
the changes which take place in disease, and the means by which 
these morbid changes are to be removed, are in many cases per- 
fectly unknown. From these causes, the science must naturally be 
imperfect. From them also have probably originated those absurd 
conjectui'es and theories which so long disgraced the healing art. 
Notwithstanding" these disadvantages, the exertions of the physi- 
cian, properly directed, are capable of affording- the most essential 
services to mankind. 

63G. % Chemistky, the last branch of knowledge which re- 
gards the structure of bodies, presents a large field of in- 
struction and amusement. The object of chemistry is to 
discover the qualities of bodies by means of analysis and 
composition', and to observe the results that take place from 
these operations. With this view, it investigates the effects 
of air, light, heat, &c. on the bodies in nature, and all the 
changes which these undergo, whether from their sporitane 
ous action on each other;, or from Ihe operations of art. 



• hap. m. Philosophy of Hitman Knowledge. 295 

lllus. 1. By analysis the chemist endeavours to discover the com- 
ponent parts of bodies, or to reduce them to their elementary princi- 
ples. Composition, or synthesis, reverses this process, and forms 
new compounds by the union of bodies which were formerly dis- 
tinct. The latter furnishes the greatest number of truths, and those 
of greatest importance, as in chemistry, there are few, if any opera 
tions, in which some combinations do not take place. Perhaps it is 
scarcely possible in any case to determine what bodies are elemen- 
tary, and what are not so, many being now discovered to be com- 
pounded which were formerly considered as simple. 

2. To discover elementary principles, however, is not the most 
important part of the science. The exertions of the chemist should 
always be directed to discover the laws on which the operations oi 
his art depend, the order of the different combinations of bodies 
witli one another, and the attractions which regulate these combi- 
nations. 

3. While chemistry confines its inquiries to these operations, it 
deserves every commendation, and repays, with much emolument, 
the labours of the philosopher. But this, like other branches of 
science, has been disgraced by the projects of empirics, who pre- 
tended not to investigate, but to rival nature. Of late the properob- 
jects of chemistry have sometimes been mistaken, and many have 
endeavoured to extend its principles to the explanation of phamom* 
cna to which they could not apply ; — but chemistry however, has 
already done much, and promises to do much more, in elucidating 
and explaining many laws of nature, and in simplifying many pro- 
cesses in the arts. 



CHAPTER III. 

HUMAN KNOWLEDGE, ADDRESSED TO THE 
IMAGINATION. 

657. Though the understanding is the noblest faculty 
of the human mind, yet its exercise is not always attended 
with the most pleasure. Many of its exertions are extreme- 
ly fatiguing, sometimes even painful ; they are recommended 
chiefly by the importance of the consequences which they 
involve, and the ascendancy that they procure. This re- 
mark, however, applies chiefly to those exertions which are 
purely scientific, and which are occupied about long and 
intricate trains of reasoning. The most popular, the most 
familiar, and certainly not the least useful exertions, are 
engaged about the objects of the other faculties to which 
knowledge is addressed, — the memokyj and \}\(> imagina- 

yr> v 



-9o A Grammar of Logic. book w 

638. Memory is the faculty, whose exercise yields least 
employment, its chief use being to furnish materials for the 
operations • of the understanding. (Art. 247.) But the 
imagination partakes deeply of the pleasure resulting from 
the contemplation of all the works of genius ; and is that fa- 
culty, whose exertions convey the most exquisite satisfaction 
that can be received, independent of moral sentiment, and 
the affections of the heart. (Art. 264.) 

Jllus. 1. In the most captivating 1 objects of the imagination, how- 
ever, there is always intei-mixed a large portion of those qualities 
which recommend the objects to the understanding, and gain its ap- 
probation. Without this intermixture, the objects of imagination 
may excite a transient surprise, or momentary gratification ; but 
they will never please upon reflection, nor will they long engage 
the attention of correct taste. (Art. 265.) 

2. Even poetry must present sound sense, and a legitimate logic ; 
and paixting must exhibit design, propriety, and titility, before they 
can obtain a more favourable appellation than the offspring of a dis- 
ordered or distempered fancy. (Art. 267 and 268.) 

639. These remarks shew how the objects of one faculty 
solicit the attention of another, and circumscribe the objects 
which we are now to represent as addressed immediately to 
the imagination. 

640. The word poetry (Art. 591. Illus. 3.) was appro- 
priated to characterize these objects : butin this case it must 
be extended much beyond its common acceptation. It must 
receive a sense not restricted to metrical composition, but 
extended to all elegant productions of art, whether 
communicated by language, by the pencil, or the graving 
tool. It must comprehend, in a word, all ornamented or 
figurative composition, whether in prose or verse ; the 
exertions of the statuary, of the painter, and of the engra- 
ver; and the most meritorious exhibitions of the archi- 
tect,- of the musician and of the gardener. 

Obs. As far as the objects of the Imagination can be expressed 
by language, I have anticipated the view of them in my Grammar 
of Rhetoric, in which it has been my endeavour, not only to intro- 
duce the reader to an acquaintance with poetic compositions, but 
to render him a judge of their merit, and to guide his exertions in 
similar attempts. It remains, then, only that we conclude this sur- 
. vey by some remarks on the other branches of knowledge which we 
have mentioned. 

641, Greece is not the country in which we are to look 
for the greatest and most useful. improvements in the ne- 
cessary arts of life ; for in agriculture, manufactures, and 
commerce, it was behind Egypt ajul Phoenicia ; but, in all 



ohak lit. Philosophy of Human Knowledge. 297 

that respects the fine arts — Poetry, Rhetoric, Sculpture, 
and Architecture, no nation of antiquity rivalled Greece ; 
and the models which yet remain of these, are not only mo- 
dels of imitation, but Standards of excellence to the moderns, 
in the judgment of the most civilized nations of our own 
times. In sketching the outline of the exertions of the stat- 
uary and the architect we shall, therefore, view Greece at 
the period when the active spirit of the Athenians, which, 
after the defeat of Xerxes, would have languished, but for 
the new direction (hat luxury gave it, began to display itself, 
and the aits broke out at once with surprising lustre. 

64 l 2. The age of Pericles, the era of luxury and splendour, 
was the golden age of the arts in Greece. The acquisition 
of fame was then the capital inducement to exertions of ge- 
nius ; but as a secondary excitement we must assign a large 
portion to the Theology of the Greeks, which furnished am- 
ple exercises for the genius of the architect and the sculptor. 

Obs. But that which enabled the Grecian artist to excel in sculp- 
ture was the advantage he enjoyed of studying - the human figure nak- 
ed, in all its various attitudes in the Palxstra, and in the public games. 
The antique statues have, thence, a superior grandeur united with 
perfect simplicity, because the attitude is not" the result of an artifi- 
cial disposition of the figure, as in the modern academies, but is an 
exhibition of unconstrained nature. 

Example. Thus, in the dying gladiator, we observe both the relax- 
ation of the muscles, and the visible failure of strength and life ; we 
cannot thence doubt, that nature was the sculptor's immediate 
model of imitation. 

643. The Grecian Architecture, universally allowed to be 
the most perfect, consists of the Doric, the Ionic, and the 
Corinthian orders; and these three several orders are res*- 
pectively adapted to three different kinds of buildings. 

Illus. 1. Thus, the Doric, possessing masculine grandeur, and a 
superior degree of strength over both the Ionic and Corinthian, is 
admirably adapted to buildings of great magnitude and of a sublime 
character ; for with chasteness and simplicity the character of sub- 
limity is essentially connected. 

Example 1. The temple of Theseus, at Athens, constructed ten 
years after the battle of Marathon, is of this order, and at this day 
almost entire. 

Illus. 2. The Ionic order possesses lightness and elegance. As 
the Doric boasts masculine grandeur, the Ionic values itself on its 
feminine elegance ; it is besides simple; for, simplicity is an essential 
requisite of genuine beauty. 

Example 2. The Temple of Apollo, at Miletus, was built after this 
order : as were also that of the Delphian Oracle, and of Diana, at 
Ephesus. 

26* 



torn 



298 A Grammar of Logic, book v. 

Jllus. 3. The Coiuxthiast order, possessing an exuberance of 
richness, marks an age of luxury and magnificence, when pomp 
and splendour, without extinguishing the taste for the sublime and 
beautiful, had become the ruling passions. But this union of these 
characters satisfies not the chastened judgment ; nor does it please, 
except where the taste has been corrupted by the ingredients of 
luxury and magnificence. 

644. The Tuscan and Composite orders are both of Ital- 
ian origin : the former nearly allied to the Grecian style, 
poseseses an inferior degree of elegance ; and the latter, as its 
name imports, shews that in the three original orders the 
Greeks had exhausted all the principles of grandeur and of 
beauty; and that it was not possible to ibnn a fourth order 
without a combination of the former. 

645. The Gothic Architecture presents no contradic- 
tions to the foregoing definitions and illustrations. It must* 
however, be allowed, that the eft'ect which it produces can- 
not be entirely accounted for by the rules of symmetry or 
harmony in the proportion between the several parts ; but 
depends chiefly on certain ideas of vastness, gloominess, and 
solemnity, which are reckoned powerful ingredients in the 

blime. 

646. Gardening is now improved into afne art [Art. 264. 
Elus. 1 and 2.) and when we talk of a garden, without any 
epithet, we mean not the garden of Alcinous, described by 
ITomer, but a pleasure garden; a spot of ground which the 
" prophetic eye of taste," [Jlri. 269, and its illustrations) 
has laid out for beauty solely, and which, beside the emotions 
of beauty from regularity, order, proportion, colour, and 
utility, can raise the emotions of grandeur, of sweetness, 
of gaiety, of melancholy, of wildness, and even of surprize 
or wonder. But we have anticipated, under the head of 
imagination, Chapter IX. Book II. what might here be- 
come the materials of a train of reasoning on gardening. 

647. As to Painting and Engraving, the best service I 
can here render the reader will be to sketch the state of those 
arts in the age of Leo X. 

648. The human mind seems to take, in certain periods, 
a strong bent to one class of pursuits in preference to all 
others, as in the age of Leo X. to the fine arts of painting, 
sculpture, and architecture. This direction of the human 
mind may be, in part, accounted for from moral causes > 
such as the peaceful state of a country, the genius or taste of 
its sovereigns, their liberal encouragement of those arts, th'e 



Via p. in. Philosophy of Human Knowledge. 299' 

general emulation that arises where one or two artists are 
of confessed eminence, and the aid which they derive from 
the studies and works of each other. 

649. Under the ruins of the Roman empire, the arts of 
painting, and sculpture were buried in the west, and gradu- 
ally declined in the later ages, as we may perceive by 
the series of the coins of the lower empire. The Ostho- 
groths, instead of destroying, sought to preserve the monu- 
ments of taste and genius, and became the inventors of some 
of the arts dependent on design, as the composition of Mo- 
saic. But, in the middle ages, those arts were at a very 
low ebb in Europe. They began, however, to revive a little 
towards the end of the thirteenth century. A Florentine, 
named Cimabue, beheld the paintings of some Greek artists 
in one of the churches, and began to attempt similar perfor- 
mances. He soon excelled his models, and his scholars, 
Ghiotto, Gaddi, Task Cavallini, and Stephano Fiorentino, 
formed an academy at Florence, in 1350. 

650. But the works of these early painters, with some 
fidelity of imitation, had not a spark of grace or elegance ; 
and such continued to be the state of the art till towards the 
end of the fifteenth century, when it arose at once to perfec- 
tion. Raphael at first painted in the hard style of his mas- 
ter Perugino ; but soon deserted it, and at once struck into 
the noble, elegant, and graceful, imitation of the genuine 
antique. This change was the result of genius alone ; for 
the ancient sculptors were familiar to the early painters, 
though they had looked on them with cold indifference. But 
they were now surveyed by the eyes of Michael Angelo, 
Raphael, and Leonardo da Vinci, geniuses animated by a 
similar spirit of taste, and a similar solidity of judgment, 
that formed the Grecian Apelles, Xeuxis, Glycou, Phidias, 
and Praxiteles. 

651. Italy, however, was not alone thus distinguished ; 
for Germany, Flanders, and Switzerland, produced in the 
same age artists of consummate merit. 

652. Before we notice these, we shall briefly characterize 
the schools of Italy. First in order is the school of Flo- 
rence, of which the most eminent master was Michael A.11- 
gelo, born in 1474. His works are distinguished by a pro- 
found knowledge of the anatomy of the human figure, perhaps 
chiefly formed on the contemplation of the ancient sculptures. 
His paintings exhibit the grand, the sublime, and the terri^ 



■■■■■MMni 



300 A Grammar of Logic. book\. 

ble; but he drew not its simple grace and beauty from the 
antique. 

Second. — Raphael d'Urbino, born 1483, founded i\w Ro- 
man school. This great painter stands unrivalled in inven- 
tion, grace, majestic simplicity, and forcible expression of 
the passions : he united almost every excellence of the art, 
far beyond all competition. From the antique he borrowed 
liberally, but without servility. 

Third. — The most eminent artists of the school of Lom- 
bardy, or the Venetian, were Titian, Giorgione, Corregio, 
and Parmeggiano. 

Illus. 1. Titian is most eminent as a portrait-painter, and chiefly 
in the painting of female beauty. Such is the truth of his colour- 
ing 1 , that his figures look, nature itself. It was the testimony of 
Michael Angelo to the merits of Titian, that, if he had studied at 
Rome or Florence, amidst the master-pieces of antiquity, he would 
have eclipsed all the painters in the world. Giorgione, with simi- 
lar merits, was cut off in the flower of his youth. Titian lived to 
the age of an hundred. Corregio, superior in colouring, and know- 
ledge of light and shade, to all that have preceded or followed him, 
owed every thing to study. In other painters, those effects are 
frequently accidental, as we observe they are not uniform : thus, 
Parmeggiano, imitating the graceful manner of Raphael, carried it 
to a degree of affectation. 

2. In these three original Italian schools — the character of the 
Florentine is grandeur and sublimity, with great excellence of de- 
sign, but a want of grace, of skill in colouring, and effect of light 
and shade — the character of the Roman is equal excellence of de- 
sign, grandeur, tempered with moderation and simplicity, a high 
degree of grace and elegance, and a superior knowledge, though 
not an excellence, in colouring — the character of the Venetian is 
the perfection of colouring, and the utmost force of light and shade, 
with an inferiority in every other particular. 

653. The second Roman school succeeded the school of 
R. phael, and was called the school of the Caraccis, three 
brothers, the most excellent of whom was Annibal. His 
scholars were, Guercino, Albano, Lanfranc, Dominichino, 
and Guido. Though all eminent painters, the first and last 
of these were the most excellent. The elegant contours of 
Guercino, and the strength, the sweetness, and the majesty 
of Guido, are the admiration of all true judges of painting. 

654. The Flemish school in the same age was of a quite 
different character, and inferior to the Italian ; but it shone 
with great lustre. 

655. In the fifteenth century, oil-painting was invented 
by the Flemings: and, in that age, Heemskirk, Frans Flo- 
ris, Quintin Matsys, and the German Albert Durer, are ve- 



chap. in. Philosophy of Human Knowledge. 301 

ry deservedly distinguished. Of the Flemish school, Rubens 
is the chief ornament, though a painter of a much later age. 
His figures, though too corpulent, are drawn with great truth 
and strict observance of nature, and he possesses inexhausti- 
ble invention, and great skill in the expression of the pas- 
sions. Switzerland produced Hans Holbein, an artist of 
great eminence in portrait-painting, and remakable for truth 
of colouring. Of his works, from his residence at the court 
of Henry VIII. there are more specimens in Britain than 
of any other foreign painter. Holland had likewise its 
painters, whose chief merit was the faithful representation 
of vulgar nature, a perfect knowledge of the mechanism oi 
the art, the power of colours, and the effect of light and 
shade. 

656. But with the art of painting, sculpture and archi- 
tecture were likewise revived in the same age, and brought 
to high perfection ; and Michael Angelo's universal genius 
shone equally conspicuous in all the three departments. 
Michael's statue of Bacchus, Raphael judged to be the 
work of Phidias or Praxiteles. 

657. The Grecian architecture was first revived by the 
Florentines, in the fourteenth century ; and the cathedral 
of Pisa was partly constructed from the materials of an an- 
cient Greek temple. The art reached the highest perfec- 
tion in the age of Leo X. when the church of St. Peter's at 
Rome, under the direction of Bramante, San Gallo, Raphael, 
and Michael Angelo, exhibited the noblest specimen of ar- 
chitecture in the universe. 

658. We date the invention of the art of engraving on 
copper by Tomaso Finiguerra, a goldsmith of Florence, a- 
bout 1460 ; and from Italy it travelled into Flanders, where 
it was first practised by Martin Scoen, of Antwerp. Albeit 
Durer, his celebrated scholar, engraved with excellence 
both on copper and on wood. Etching on copper, by means 
of acpiafortis, was discovered by Parmeggiano, who execu- 
ted in that manner his own beautiful designs. 

thus. 1. No art underwent, in its early stages, so rapid an im- 
provement as that of engraving-, for in the course of 150 years from 
its invention, it nearly attained perfection ; and there has been but 
ittle proportional improvement in the last century, since the days, 
if Audran, Poilly, and Edelinck. 

2. The art of engraving in mezzot'mto is, however, of much later 
date than the ordinary mode of engraving on copper, and was the 
invention of Prince Rupert, about 1650. It is characterized by a 



302 A Grammar of Logic. book v. 

softness equal to that of the pencil, and a happy blending of light 
and shade, and is, therefore, peculiarly adapted to portraits, in which 
those requisites are highly essential. 

Obs. The age of Leo X. was likewise an era of very high litera- 
ry splendour ; but to take notice of the writers of distinguished 
merit in that period, would compel us to launch forward into a View 
of the Progress of Literature and of the Sciences during the six- 
teenth and seventeenth centuries. 

659. Music has a place among the fine arts, and 'tis fit 
it should, from its commanding influence over the human 
mind, in conjunction with words. 

Mm. Objects of sight may indeed contribute to the same end* 
but more faintly, as where a love poem is rehearsed in a shady grove* 
or on the bank of a purling stream ; but souxns, which are vastly 
more ductile and various, readily accompany all the social affec- 
tions expressed in a poem, especially emotions of love and pity. 

660. Music may, no doubt, be made to promote luxury 
and effeminacy ; but with respect to its pure and refined 
pleasures, music goes hand in hand with gardening, archi- 
tecture, and sculpture, her sister arts, in humanizing and 
polishing the mind. They may doubt this who have never 
telt their charms; but the soldier, whose courage has been 
roused by music performed upon instruments without a 
vOice, knows the all-powerful charms of music; the lover, 
whose grief and pity have been raised by melancholy mu- 
sic, or by association of sounds, reminded of the mistress 
whose syren voice once ravished his soul, does not require 
the authority of Polybius to believe how dear was music to 
the Arcadians, under those great teachers, Timotheus and 
Philoxenus.* 

Illus. 1. But no disagreeable combination of sounds is entitled to 
the name of music ; for all music is resolvable into melody and har- 
mony, which imply agreeableness in their very conception. 

2. The agreeableness of vocal music differs from that of instru- 
mental ; the former being intended to accompany words ought to 
be expressive of the sentiment which they convey ; but the latter 
having no connexion with words may be agreeable without any re- 
lation to sentiment. Harmony, properly so called, though delight- 
ful when in perfection, hath no relation to sentiment ; and we often 
find melody without the least tincture of it. 

3. In vocal music, the intimate connexion of sense and sound re- 
jects dissimilar emotions, those especially that are opposite. Simi- 
lar emotions, produced by the sense and the sound, go generally 
into union ; and at the same time are concordant or harmonious ; 
but dissimilar emotions, forced into union by these causes intimate- 
ly connected, obscure each other, and are also unpleasant by discord 

♦J'olyb. Lib. IV. Cap. HI. 



< hap. in. Philosophy of Human Knoiviedgc. 303 

661. These illustrations make it easy to determine what 
sort of poetical compositions are fitted for music. 

Was. 1. As music in all its tones ought to be agreeable, it can 
never be concordant with any compositions in language expressing 
a disagreeable passion, or describing a disagreeable object, for here 
the emotions raised by the sense and by the sound, are not only 
dissimilar but opposite ; and such emotions, forced into union, pro- 
duce always an unpleasant mixture. 

Example 1. Music accordingly is a very improper companion for 
sentiments of malice, cruelty, envy, peevishness, or >»ny other dissocial 
passion ; witness, among a thousand, King John's speech in Shak- 
speare, soliciting Hubert to murder Prince Arthur, which, even in 
the most cursory view, will appear incompatible with any sort of 
music. 

2. Music is a companion no less improper for the description of 
any disagreeable object, such as that of Polyphemus, in the 3d 
Hook of the JEneid ; or that of Sin, in the 2d Book of Paradise 
Lost — the horror of the object described, and the pleasure of the 
music, would be highly discordant. 

Mm. 2. With regard to vocal music, there is an additional reason 
against associating it with disagreeable passions. The external 
signs of such passions are painful ; the looks and gestures to the 
-ye, and the tone of pronunciation to the ear: such tones, there- 
fore, can never be expressed musically, for music must be pleasant, 
or it is not music. 

3. On the other hand, jlfusic associates finely with poems that 
i end to inspire pleasant emotions : music, for example, in a cheer- 
ful tone, is perfectly concordant with every emotion in the same 
tone ; hence our taste for airs expressive of mirth and jollity. 

4. Sympathetic joy associates finely with cheerful music ; and 
sympathetic pain no less finely with music that is tender and me- 
lancholy. All the different emotions of love, namely tenderness, 
concern, anxiety, pain of absence, hope, fear, accord delightfully with 
music : and accordingly, a person in love, even when unkindly 
treated, is soothed by music : for the tenderness of love still pre- 
vailing, accords with a melancholy strain. 

Example 3. This is finely exemplified by Shaks peaks in the 4th 
Act of Othello, where Desdemona calls for a song expressive of her 
distress. Wonderful, indeed, is the delicacy of that Poet's taste, 
which never fails him, not even in the most refined emotions of hu- 
man nature ! 

Obs. Melancholy music is suited to slight grief, which requires or 
admits consolation ; but deep grief, which refuses all consolation, 
rejects, for that reason, even melancholy music. 

Mm. 5. Where the same person is both the actor and the singer, 
as in an opera, there is a separate reason why Music should not be. 
associated with the sentiments of any disagreeable passion, nor wiih 
the description of any disagreeable object ; this separate reason is, 
that such an association is altogether unnatural. 

Example 4. The pain which a man feels who is agitated with 
malice or unjust revenge, disqualifies him for relishing music, or 



S04 A Grammar of Logic. ', * book v. 

' 
any thing' that is pleasing ; and, therefore, to represent such a man 
contrary to nature, expressing his sentiments in a song cannot be 
agreeable to any audience of taste. 

Example 5. Whatever may be the opinion of the public, or of 
contemporary critics, this Illustration appositely applies to " Mac- 
heath" in the " Beggars' Opera" — a character between whom, or 
rather whose principles, and the endurance of those principles by 
any audience, there is but one step to the faith of the materialist — 
the character is bold and reckless mirth, that with the desperate must 
be the mask of despair ; and as is the character, so is the horror in- 
spired in every mind of pure and refined sensibility, by Macheath's 
mixing music, and his companions mingling the dance, with the 
agitated feelings which all their sophistry can never conquer. 

Illus. 6. For a different reason, Music is improper for accompa- 
nying pleasant emotions of the more important kind ; because these 
totally engross the mind, and leave no place for music, nor for any 
sort of amusement. 

Example 6. In a perilous enterprise to dethrone a tyrant, music 
would be impertinent, even where hope prevails, and the prospect 
of success is great. Alexander, attacking the Indian town, and 
mounting the wall, had certainly no impulse to exert his prowess in 
a song. 

662. H is true, that not the least regard is paid to these 
rules either in the French or Italian Opera ; and the attach- 
ment which we Britons have to operas, may, at first, be con- 
sidered as an argument against the doctrine I have endeav- 
oured to establish. But the general taste for operas, and 
what are called melo-dramas, is no argument; for in these 
compositions the passions are so imperfectly expressed, as 
to leave the mind free from relishing music of any sort in- 
differently ; and it cannot be denied, that the pleasure of an 
opera is derived chiefly from the music, and scarcely at all 
from the sentiments — a happy concordance raised by the 
music and by the song is extremely rare; and I agree with 
Lord Kaimes, that there is no example of it, unless where 
the emotion raised by the former is agreeable, as well as 
that raised by the latter.* 

* A censure of the same kind is pleasantly applied to the French 
hallettes by a celebrated writer • " Si le Prince est joyeux, on prend 
part a sa joye, et I'on danse : s'il est triste, on veut l'egayer, et l'on. 
danse. Mais ily a bien d'autres sujets de danses : le plus graves 
actions de la vie se font en dansent. Les pretres dansent, les soldats 
dansent, les dieux dansent, les diables dansent, on danse jusquer dans 
les enterremens, et tout danse apropos de tout." 



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